25 Coffins Kaylar Abyss Series Book 2
by teawithmegan
Summary: This year Kaylar must mentor her tributes but after the president dies in a strange turn of events there is a rule change. Can she keep her tributes alive while escaping the clutches of the Capitol once again? Read my fic The 63rd Hunger Games first guys!
1. Chapter 1

I suppose it all started when I survived the train crash which was engineered to kill me. The trouble I mean. I stand now in the town square, watching as the children fill the space. Just last year I was one of them, oh how much can change in just 12 months. My name is Kaylar Abyss, victor of the 63rd annual Hunger Games.

The air is electric. From my place on the stage I can watch my old school mates squirm and fidget as they wait to see which of them I next for the slaughter. Thoughts of the last year's events bounce off the inside of my skull as I wait for proceedings to begin. The river of blood at the cornucopia, my ally Alix's death by acid-water, a knife sticking out of my dear friend Kesella's body and then out of my own, an exploding train, a meeting with the president and I replacement carriage home by hovercraft.

I think on what the people told me in the hours following the explosion:

"We have no punishment lined up for you tonight. You will go back to district 4 and undertake your victory tour; we can't go losing our victor now can we? It's your turn to mentor next year and I feel the games I have planned will be punishment enough." or "Just you wait until the reaping we have such an amazing surprise for you!" I guess I am about to discover just how terrible these games will be.

**.**

.

"What do you want Snow? I'm trying to write a speech here!" said a very exasperated Rye Malum, watching in annoyance as Coriolanus Snow paced his beautiful study.

"I'll be sure the read it for you." mutters Snow dangerously. "I don't feel you understand the state of things Malum. This will be your last day for this office; can't you fill it with something productive? I'm perfectly capable of writing your farewell speech."

"My farewell speech? But I..."

That was when Malum noticed the White cloaked Peacekeepers by the door, their guns trained on his own heart.

"Why you traitorous scum!" he yelled angrily at Snow, vaulting the desk to get a hold of him.

"Now, now Rye. Don't upset me. I'm afraid your life is now very much in my hands. If you'd like me to take it quickly then I'd suggest you sit back down."

"They won't stand for this Snow, I am the president!'

"But I'm afraid they will my dear friend. A very large majority of the government is currently on my side, don't make me persuade the others as well, have you no dignity?"

"You? How did you get them to support you, you slimy mutt?"

"I have my methods." replied Snow, digging a bony hand into his suit jacket and drawing out a small, silver tub of something which he offered to Malum. "Care for a berry?"

"Nightlock? But you can't..."

"Oh, I'm afraid I can."

The crimson blood spattered the clean wall behind as Malum fell face first to the carpeted floor. Snow blew gently on the top of his silver revolver before slipping it back into the pocket of his trousers and stepping over Malum's body, plucking his unfinished speech from the desk as he crossed to the window.

"Such a pity, the other way was so much tidier. No matter, I'll teach this nation something about compliance. Yes I think this will do nicely." he says staring out at the city that was now his for the taking before turning to read the speech in his hand. "Actually Malum, this is rather good."

**.**

.

Auris gives me a small kiss on each cheek as she mounts the stage. To my surprise she takes the empty seat beside me and I shoot her a questioning look as Mayor Seabright takes her place in between the glass balls bearing the names of the probable tributes.

"Good afternoon district 4! I have been asked to inform you that the Reaping will be a little different this year. Here is a tape delivered to me by the Capitol to explain everything."

She steps aside and all eyes turn to the huge screen which has been set up behind the stage. As if on cue it crackles to life and I find myself staring into the snake like eyes of an unfamiliar man. It's not the man that astounds me however; it's the office he sits in, an office I know to belong to someone else. I am filled with renewed curiosity as the man begins to speak:

"Districts! Welcome to the 64th annual Hunger Games. May I introduce myself? My name is Coriolanus Snow, president of Panem. In honour of the death of your great ex-ruler, President Malum, there will be a few extra twists to the games this year. For starters the Capitol and the district leaders will choose whose names are entered into the reaping balls. There will be no age constraints or volunteering, whoever is pulled from the balls will become our tributes. Secondly, to show that not even the most successful among you can escape from the Capitol, last year's winning district will submit twice as many tributes as usual. May the odds be ever in your favour."

Then he is gone.

A nervous buzz of chatter fills the square. People who thought they were safe are now eligible once again. At least in previous years everyone knew exactly whose name was in those balls, now it's anybody's game. President Snow is clearly determined to make his first games memorable. My stomach twists painfully as the Mayor gets to her feet again. I get the feeling my amazing surprises are only just beginning.

"Right, well, on to the official business." She says quickly.

Without further adieu she launches into the long and boring reading of the Treaty of Treason and explains to us all about the Dark Days and the rebellion of the districts which resulted in the Hunger Games. Next she reads out the long list of district 4 victors from past years, lingering a little too long over Testa's name. She finishes with her own name, Mags Seabright and then mine before clearing the stage for Auris to begin the Reaping.

I catch my breath as Auris gets to her feet. Here it goes, my tributes will soon be revealed. My heart is in my throat as I glance ruefully over at Mags. Technically it should be her turn to mentor the tributes this year but since she is Mayor she is exempt from this rather unpleasant duty until next year after the election has been called. I find myself hoping she is voted out so that I don't have to mentor two years in a row but even then I feel doubtful because if I was a tribute I wouldn't want her to mentor me, many people aren't even sure if she is completely sane. Who knows what mentoring would do to her.

To be honest, i'm so lost in thought that I don't hear the calling of either of the female tributes. When I next look up there are two girls standing shakily on the stage before me. One is small and lithe with spiky brown hair which only reaches her shoulders, she is doing her best to keep a brave smile on her face but I can see her resolve wavering. The second is quite tall and extremely slender. Her face is striking pretty and a spray of freckles adorns her button nose. She is a vibrant redhead and her locks fall right down to her shoulder blades in beachy waves. This girl makes no effort to keep the tears from her eyes and I feel desperately sorry for each of them.

"On to the boys then!" calls Auris, digging her hand into the right hand glass ball and pulling out two slips at once. "First up…oh dear…Sandy Abyss!"

I must admit that my heart stops. I jump to my feet and am screaming that I volunteer before anyone can stop me. My precious little brother, my 11 year old brother will never set foot in that arena, not if I can help it.

It takes a few minutes for the Peacekeepers to suppress me and remind me that I am a victor, I can't volunteer and besides, volunteering has been abolished this year. I swear openly and grab him into a tight hug as he reaches the stage. He looks at me in confusion, his blue eyes sparkling as he asks me:

"Did I win Kaylar?"

I just nod and watch in stunned silence as the Peacekeepers help him over to stand by Auris who shoots me an apologetic look. I'm not paying attention however; my punishment is only just beginning. Auris gives a short little cough to get the crowd's attention back on her and begins to unfold the second slip of paper. For a minute she just stares at it and then she opens her perfectly formed mouth and whispers:

"Your second male tribute is…oh, how can this be…your second male tribute is Kesella Shoal."


	2. Chapter 2

I almost fall off of my chair as my amazing surprise picks his way through the crowd and takes to the stage. He is still every bit as beautiful as I remember and he looks fresh and unharmed. I know I should be elated but I can't bring myself to believe that he is here, I saw him die, he should be dead. Then again, so should I.

Auris looks just as stunned as I. Her little district fancy has risen from the dead. As she brings the Reaping to a close I can see the genuine smile creeping across her face under her makeup. She raises the two closest tributes arms in the air and cries a little too enthusiastically:

"Your district 4 tributes, Kesella Shoal, Sandy Abyss and Thalia and Cerena Alevin!"

The crowd does not cheer. They stand and they stare up at the stage, mostly they stare at me or at our resident zombie Kesella. I really can't blame them; I can hardly take my eyes off him myself.

As the tributes are swept in to the Justice Building, the wonder of the situation begins to fade and reality begins to set in. I have four tributes to care for, two of which are extremely close to my heart and one of which I didn't even know was still breathing until moments ago. Now I face the task of keeping them alive, now I face the choice between them. Kesella or Sandy? Could I even keep Sandy alive if I tried? It's all too much.

I'm not even sure if what I am planning will be allowed but by the time I reach the 2nd floor I am beyond caring. I push through the throng of people inconspicuously and jot my name down on the register on a table guarded by Peacekeepers. They eye me suspiciously but don't say anything as one gets up to let me into a study to the left hand side.

I find my brother inside, curled on his side amongst a mound of silken pillows on a chaise couch. He doesn't stir when I enter and I suppose he must be asleep; he has a strange habit of just dropping off where ever he may be. The thought makes me smile and I shake his thin shoulder.

His blue eyes are wide as he watches me take a seat beside him. He doesn't say much but I am used to this, he is my strange, innocent little brother after all. I know he doesn't fully understand what is happening and I don't want to wind him up at all but it doesn't feel right to just say nothing. I know the clock is ticking so I string together I sentence, choosing my words very carefully:

"You and me, we are both going away for a while Sandy. I want you to remember that even if you can't always see me, I'm always there."

He just stares straight through me, his blonde curls falling into his round face. I realise just how difficult the task ahead is, he isn't getting any of this.

All too soon the Peacekeeper is rapping on the door to indicate the end of my time and I am hugging my brother tightly as though I will never let go. I do though and I force myself to walk away, for this is not really goodbye, not yet anyway.

The next person on my list is making me feel rather nervous. As a different Peacekeeper leads me up a staircase and off to the right hand side my heart flutters against my chest and my palms begin to sweat copiously. The Peacekeeper comes to a stop outside a wooden door and knocks twice before pulling the door open and shunting me inside.

Kesella sits hunched over at a desk by the window. I can see the outline of his perfectly toned body as I walk timidly across the room and lay a hand on his bronzed shoulder.

"Hey." I whisper, it's a pretty lame start but I'm not entirely sure how to talk to a dead person.

He spins around in his chair and grabs my wrist, taking in my appearance with a hunger in his eyes which is soon replaced by cold hatred. He throws my hand off him and stands, towering threatening over me.

"This is your fault! I knew it was too good to be true. They let me live just to send me back in there. I can't do it Kaylar, I can't. Why couldn't you just let me die and be a good little victor?"

I'm so taken aback by this that I scuttle backwards a few steps, tripping over the ornate rug and steadying myself on a small table. There will be no happy reunion for us then, I was right to be nervous.

"Kesella I didn't know...they...they told me you were dead. Until this morning I believed you were. You can't blame me for this!" I stammer.

"Yes I can and I do." he growls, taking a step closer and seizing his old district token from my wrist. "And now it's up to you to keep me alive? Please. You would be dead if it weren't for me. God I've been stupid!"

"Kesella don't, please!" I cry in desperation. "I thought you were dead Kes, they told me you were, I can't help this, I only acted that way in the Capitol to honour you, I didn't mean for all of this to happen."

"Well it did." he says with a sense of finality before dropping back into his seat facing the window.

I sense that our conversation is over. Really I am glad; I couldn't have faced another second in this room. I turn and flee, almost knocking over Kesella's father in my haste to escape. I run all the way back to my new house in the Victor's Village, slamming the door behind me and sliding my back down it to sit with my head in my hands.

So Kesella hates me? As if his going to the games wasn't enough, now he can't stand the sight of me. You might think this would make my decision of who to fight for easier but it certainly doesn't. Confused thoughts chase each other around my head and I try to block them out by pressing my hands over my aching ears.

"Kaylar, is that you?"

Great.

"Yeah dad, it's me."

"What happened at the Reaping, I hear there is some kind of twist this year. I'm sorry I missed it."

Oh yeah. My father has been crippled with illness since the Capitol announced my death on live television. I think all of the stress and grief of having two family members in the games was just too much for him and now I have the unpleasant job of telling him about Sandy. Solemnly, I mount the stairs.

I find him in his room, across the hall from my own. He is tucked up in his bed as usual, propped up against several crisp white pillows. He smiles with effort as I enter and pats the soft bed beside him inviting me to sit down. There is a lump in my throat as I try to decide exactly what to say. I hate the thought of him stuck here in this house alone.

"Hello darling." He manages, taking my hand in his own. "Listen, i know you are worried about mentoring but…wait a minute, where is Sandy?"

I sit down shakily, staring at the wooden floor for a moment as I try to gather my thoughts. Slowly I come to the conclusion that there is no avoiding it, I have to tell him.

"I…"

And then suddenly I am telling him everything which has happens since we left the house that morning. The president's dearth, the twist in the reaping, the drawing of Sandy's name and how I went to visit him in the Justice building.

"You'll be ok on your own though, it's not for long." I say quickly. "I'm going with him and I'll do everything in my power to get him out of there."

And in that moment I know I must. For my father, for my unstable little brother. Suddenly, my decision is made.


	3. Chapter 3

****People of earth, I am so sorry this took me so long! Please don't abandon Kaylar because i am a slow uploader. So anyway, I have final exams in school over the next 6 weeks but I will try really hard to progress with the story. Let me know what you think! ****

The train journey to the Capitol seems much more sinister than before; like a funeral march. I can almost hear the organ playing inside my head. It's curious, but I don't feel inclined to search my surroundings for possible bombs, not really. The Capitol would never waste four perfectly good tributes just to get to me would they? No, they can do that much more effectively in the arena. I can only imagine the horrors Arianna Specter has dreamt up since I saw her last.

At dinner I find out a little more about my subjects. Cerena and Thalia are twins, fishermen's daughters just like I used to be before the games changed me. They are 16 years old, that's three years older than me yet it is my responsibility to look after them. It all makes me feel very much like a stupid little girl again, something I haven't felt since the beginning of my games last year.

We are just discussing Thalia's aptitude with a spear over pink chocolate fudge cake when bursts out of her seat, blazing with rage and begins to yell about how it doesn't matter what they do, they're never going to get my attention over my own baby brother. She shoots me an icy glare before storming out of the room, letting the door swing freely behind her. After a second's hesitation I follow.

I catch up to her her half way up the corridor and grab her slim hand in both of my own. I hold it fast, begging her to catch my eye. Her face is masked in what I take to be shame and her eyes-which dart back and forth from the floor to my face-, are flooded with tears. I can tell that inside she is burning with a kind of insolent certainty. I can almost hear her daring me to tell her that she is wrong, that there is still a chance for her and her sister. I can't. I would love to but I just can't. I release her hand and she gives and assured sort of nod before walking off towards her room, furiously swiping the tears from her cheeks.

That night I have my worst nightmares in some time. First Testa hobbles towards me, hand on her horrid homemade crutch, left sleeve tucked careful up to her shoulder to disguise her lack of limb. She gives me a toothless leer and she stares not just at me but into me. Her expression is easy to read but I am still baffled by it; pity is not an emotion one usually associates with Testa Klusmos.

"Don't do it girly, you know you can't." she croaks, her voice just as I remember; like sandpaper on rock. "You owe it to them; don't choose your battles just yet!"

She nods her head with finality and I take a cautious step back into the blackness, watching from a distance as an explosion of orange flames engulfs her hunched body. Now I know I am truly alone as the scene fades to black and my only company becomes the stench of burning flesh.

The dream changes. I am in a dark glade within a familiar forest. To one side a tall woman stands clutching a small boy to her side. The woman is beautiful and slender with full red lips and a waterfall of icy blonde hair. The boy has his face tucked in to the folds of her radiant white gown so I can't see his face. I don't need to however, I already know his name.

"M...Mother?" I stutter.

She nods slowly. Her body exudes a kind of golden glow. I assume she is a ghost although she appears to be more solid than that. I squint as her form flickers. She has never come to me in a dream before. Her face is stern as she speaks again.

"You know what you must do." she says, her voice velvety like the tendrils of the night which surround us. "I'm sorry but you and I both know you can't do it, it's not possible." she clutches the child closer to her, a silvery tear trailing down her cheek. "He will be safe with me. It is the way it must be Kaylar, save him from the cruelty of your world."

I wake in the early hours of the morning feeling fragile and drenched in cold sweat as I stare around my room. Steely grey light is just beginning to seep through the curtains so the cabin is still mostly black. I am shaking slightly and my judgment is somewhat clouded as I get to my feet; this is what I blame for my actions.

The corridor is pitch black and I pull my robe tighter around myself before taking my first steps. Once my door is softly closed I start off toward the dining car. My feet carry me straight past it however and I am slightly surprised. My legs are acting totally on autopilot and I have accepted that I won't know where I am going until I arrive.

Excitement and fear flood my veins in a heart stopping cocktail as I glance down my hand, resting on a gilded door knob. I know this room; I know who used to live within it. Will he still be here? Only one way to find out. Slowly, I give the handle a turn.

I step inside and close the door softly behind me. Everything is just as I remembered. The large bed, identical to my own, takes precedence in the centre of the room. The silken bed clothes are wrinkled and heavy breathing fills the air as I expected. However, as my eyes begin adjust to the darkness I notice that there are two forms where there should be only one.

I stumble forward, my limbs acting of their own accord once again. My feet come to rest by a pile of linen which I nudge over with my toe. A robe like my own. I squint into the darkness and as I do one of the bodies stirs. I watch as he raises himself to his elbows, pressing a long finger to his lips with a leer of satisfaction. As I run from the room I just catch a glimpse of her fiery red hair splayed across the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**** SORRRY SORRRY SORRY! In 3 weeks time my exams are finished and I promise I will do every day updates from then on out. Forgive me? So I got a private message from someone asking for an ideal sort of cast list, you people wanna see that? I have a few ideas though I might need some help.** **

At breakfast there is a cloud of bitterness in the air which chokes each of us as we force down our eggs and bacon. No one looks up from their plates, bar Auris who just watches everyone in confusion. She puts on her usual smiley front and attempts to patch up the holes in the conversation.

"So...people. We are nearly in the Capitol, aren't you excited?" she beams.

We all glare fiercely at her and she looks rather taken aback as she turns to her food and begins to shovel eggs in to her pouting mouth. I feel a little guilty, poor Auris doesn't know what has happened and she has been rather helpful to me over the last year. I lay a gentle hand on her shoulder and she offers me a grin, flashing her food filled teeth.

I continue to show kindness to Auris, Sandy and even Thalia. However, I can't bring myself to look at Cerena or Kesella, though he is doing his best to catch my eye with a sneer. That suits me just fine but I can no longer bear to look at the face I used to love so. The rugged handsomeness has been replaced with malice and the glitter that once lit his eyes has been quelled by haunted memories. I can hardly believe that he is the same person. I can hardly believe that he is alive.

Eventually we all retire to our quarters to prepare for the day ahead. I slip into the shower and then sit on my bed, watching the world race by through the open window until we are plunged into the darkness of one of the Capitol's many entrance tunnels. I wait longer than usual for the bright buildings of the city to appear. After around 10 minutes the purring of the engine which previously filled the silence dies and the overhead lights click on as the wheels shudder to a halt. My body fills with panic, why have we stopped? This certainly didn't happen last year.

"Tributes!"

My blood turns to ice as the serpentine voice of Coriolanus Snow fills the cabin. I get shakily to my feet, pacing the room and searching for the source of the noise, bracing myself for a second explosion like the one I experienced on the way home last year. The president laughs dryly.

"Welcome to the 64th annual games, I would say 'may the odds be ever in your favour' but i'm afraid for many of you that is unlikely." he continues, I can almost see his amused smile. "You are about to arrive in the Capitol as i'm sure you are aware. However, what you don't know is that the stakes are ultimately higher this year due to the…tragic… passing of president Malum. Upon arrival you will each take part in a test of will, courage and of course loyalty to yours truly. 26 will become 24 and finally the games will begin. Happy Hunger Games."

I'm shaking by the time the announcement ends. I don't have a clue what is happening and my young mind is struggling to process it but I get the feeling that somewhere in the other entrance tunnels, every tribute train lies in wait, each child listening to the exact same message. The thought gives me strength to face the flood which I know is about to come.

It doesn't take long before they begin banging my door down. First comes Cerena, closely followed by her sister and then finally comes Auris, balancing little Sandy on her hip. There is no sign of the illusive Kesella, this comes as no surprise. You see unlike the others Kesella has entered the arena before and has dealt with the after affects, to him the thought that it could possibly be even worse this time, well it would be unbearable. I wonder if he is able to breathe, I know I certainly can't.

"What's happening? What kind of test?" badgers Thalia.

"I…I don't know…they didn't tell me…I don't know, I'm sorry." I stammer.

"Well you should, you have to!" screams Cerena. "Who else have we got?"

The president's mirthless laughter echoes in the cabin and the twins cling to each other, staring me out. I drop onto the bed alongside Auris and Sandy crawls on to my lap and begins to fiddle with my hair. Auris squeezes my hand gently and I give her a shaky smile, squeezing my eyes tight shut as the tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I'm just a kid; I still am not quite used to the idea of these people depending on me.

"Well…can't you even answer us?" whispers Cerena, grabbing at my legs as I shake my head quietly.

"What do they mean 26 will become 24, are they going to send two of us home? What is going on?" yells Thalia.

At that moment Kesella himself materializes in the open doorway. His dark hair is tousled and his clothes are creased. A cloud of fumes floods from him and chokes us all. Alcohol. He is drunk. I can't say I blame him. He blunders into the room, his cold eyes on me, pointing an accusative finger. He looks so threatening that I can feel myself begin to shake. I know what he is capable of. I know how he feels about me. Auris shrinks back, pressing her back against the opposite wall and pulling a protesting Sandy with her.

"No! No they won't send anyone home." he says, his words slurred.

He stumbles slightly and blinks rapidly. Thalia approaches him and lays a steadying hand on his well muscled arm but he throws her off, coming ever closer to me. I push myself back further into the mattress as he takes Cerena by the hand and throws her aside, pressing his stinking body closer to my own.

"They're going to kill us, two of us, aren't they?" he sneers, his breath almost causing me to lose consciousness. "Yes, they're going to kill two of us and then the real fun can begin. Isn't it great?"

His laugh is maniacal. On his face is an insane smile which doesn't quite reach his eyes. He spins around, laughing and waving his arms until he collapses in a drunken heap beside me. I put my head in my hands as the others just stare on in shock. What had become of my sweet Kes? The boy who was willing to jeopardize his own life repeatedly to save mine.

I don't even look up until I feel his ice cold hand clamp around my throat. The group gives a collective gasp. My eyes snap open. Kesella forces his body on top of mine so that I have no choice but to stare into his black eyes as he cuts of the air supply to my brain and my eyes begin to swim. I'm dying and I know it, not from suffocation but from my heart which is slowly breaking under my flattened ribs. I struggle against him but his grip is like a vice. The others surely try to intervene but at that moment the only two people in the world are he and I.

As my lungs finally cease to function and the hands of my unconscious start to reel me in I see it. This time there is genuine satisfaction in his smile as he feels the very life leave my body through his hands. He has waited too long for this. His chest heaves; I can feel his poisonous breath on my cheek as one final tear rolls by. I'm conscious just long enough to hear his sneering words:

"And it's all her fault."

The words are full of such raw hatred, such sincerity that I finally snap. My heart gives one final dull thud and then I am gone.

**.**

**.**

**.**

I wake in the Capitol a good few hours later. Doctors and nurses flit about my floating bed, clipboards and needles in hand, all staring at me with concern. You might think this is sweet of them, you would be wrong. They aren't concerned for my feelings they just can't stand the idea of losing a precious player in this year's games. To be honest I can understand their view. I'd bet my soul that the president wouldn't hesitate to have every one of them executed, should they lose me.

"Kaylar! You're awake!"

My heart skips a beat, I know that voice. I try to call out his name but my voice catches painfully in my throat. My hand flies to my neck. The flesh around my jaw is tight and tender and I suspect it is a vibrant shade of black and blue. Memories of what happened come flying back to me and I begin to panic so that I can hear one of the monitors begin to beep hastily.

"If you are going to continue to cause this reaction I will have to ask you to leave sir, we just can't risk it." says I deep voice that I don't recognize.

"I know, it's ok, let me talk to her Dr. Collum." pleads an all too familiar voice and there is a pause, during which time I attempt desperately to slow my heart beat, causing the beeping of the machine to cease.

"Very well." sighs Dr. Collum. "Be quick, this girl has a lot of recovering to do."

I hear the sound of many footsteps around the area of my bed and a door creaking open only to close again minutes later. There is a brief silence in which I realise we are now alone, then the handsome face of my ex-stylist Dolor swims in to view overhead.

"Hello beautiful." He chuckles, squeezing my hand tightly.

Though it pains me greatly I can't help but grin. As long as Dolor is here everything will be ok, I just know it, he is like my secondary father, the only person I can fully trust. I try to speak again but he pushes a finger to my lips, frowning when I wince in pain at his touch.

"I'm going to have a hard time covering that up." he teases, gesturing to my neck.

I try to burst out laughing and it comes out as some kind of bestial grunt that causes so much pain that I feel as though my throat is on fire. I clasp my mouth shut and inhale sharply through my nose, jamming my eyes shut as they fill with tears.

"Ok, ok. Sorry, no more jokes!" says Dolor quickly, his voice more serious now. "He really did this to you?"

I just blink. Dolor swears loudly back at me and then smiles apologetically, glancing furtively around to see if anyone heard him. I hold my breath, the last thing I want is for my only correspondent and dear friend to be thrown out, I don't want to be alone right now. No one comes however and we both exhale deeply, causing me to grimace once more.

"No matter, you just focus on getting better, ok?" he smiles down at me and I nod a little, trying my best to keep my neck stiff. "You won't see him for a long time."

This causes me to sit up sharply and I almost scream at the pain that burns my whole body. Dolor tries to push me back down, staring around to see if anyone noticed but I shake my head excruciatingly. I muster all of my remaining strength and manage to choke out 6 words:

"Find him. Bring him to me."

"I was afraid you might say that."

****Ideas..**

**Kaylar- Elle Fanning.**

**Kesella- Chace Crawford..only younger. **

**Dolor-possibly Johnny Depp.**

**Auris- Taylor Swift..type person, maybe not actually her. Amanda Seyfried?**

**I don't really know, opinions?****


	5. Chapter 5

****Totally sad that I only got one review on my last chapter! I want to specially mention good old Peetafan1313 who seems to be my most dedicated reader. If it weren't for you I would have stopped writing this story. I LOVE YOU. There's something else I want to say but I'll leave it to the end...it has a spoiler! If anyone is still reading, enjoy. ****

Before I could hardly recognize him, now I know exactly who he is. He shuffles in, head to the floor. The doctors watch him cautiously but as he is flanked by two peacekeepers and Dolor, they seem comfortable enough to leave the room when I ask. The peacekeepers disperse as Kesella drops in to a chair at my bed side. However, dolor refuses to shift.

"I won't listen." he promises, before disappearing into the recesses of the room so that he can still monitor what is going on.

The silence is thick with uncertainty and anxiety so strong that they almost take on physical forms. Kesella still hasn't met my eyes. He wrings his hands nervously in his lap. I am all too aware of the immensity of the strength possessed by those hands, I can still feel them closing around my throat.

I cough. His head jerks up and for an uncomfortable second our gaze is caught. I take a huge gulp of air. He looks gaunt. His eyes are dead, his cheeks hollow. It's been two days since I asked for him and I can't help but wonder what kind of punishment he received for attacking me.

There is something else that plagues me, something deep within. I realize then that I can't hate him, I just can't. I had expected to be so angry and I had made the most of my two days preparing a heartfelt speech. But facing him now, I just can't do it. The sight of him just warms my heart, as annoying as it is. Together we have faced too much.

"I always knew I'd have to watch out for that temper of yours." I croak watching as a shadow of pain crosses his face.

"Yeah." he mutters.

I am taken aback. He is not the reincarnated monster I met in the Justice Building, nor the friendly brute I knew so long ago. Today he looks weary, damaged even. I can tell his nerves are getting the better of him as he shifts awkwardly in his chair. His voice is cracked and fragile like that of a defenseless little boy seeking conformation.

A smile reaches my face as I stare at the ceiling. I fell in control again. Kesella has always had a calming effect on me on for the first time I allow myself to enjoy the fact that he is still here. I also find pleasure in the fact that by being in this bed I am putting off the games and messing up the Capitol's plan. Oh the joys of procrastination.

"I'm sorry." whispers Kesella.

I sit up sharply causing Dolor to approach and grip Kesella's shoulder sharply. I stop him in his tracks with a glare and he backs off, hands in the air. I turn to Kes.

"What?" I ask. I heard him perfectly well but I want to hear it again, I want to capture this moment.

"I'm sorry ok? I'm sorry I hurt you, i'm sorry I blamed you. But you know what i'm most sorry about?"

I shake my head and cringe at the shot of pain that ravages my body.

"I'm sorry I lost you."

With that he gets slowly to his feet, giving me one last long look and then stalks off shaking his head and dragging his feet. I watch as he lets himself out into the corridor and disappears from reach, letting the door swing noiselessly behind him.

Dolor creeps to my side. First come the tears, plenty of them. But as they begin to dry on Dolor's finely tailored cloak, I am taken over by a new kind of energy. I have felt this way before; it gives me the same power as that which I used to draw from the sea back home. I feel invigorated, alive. Now that I know that my Kesella is still inside, I am determined not to let him get away. Not this time.

**.**

.  
  
It is another two days before I am released. The doctors wave me a cheery farewell and no doubt breathe huge sighs of relief as I am marched away by a pair of Peacekeepers. My body still hurts of course and I feel like I am being doused in burning oil with each step. I forge on though, and I smile because I feel that if I leave it too long, I might just lose him for good.

The peacekeepers deposit me in an eerily familiar part of the training centre. It's strange to think that one of my tributes will sleep in the room which is all but shared with Kesella last year. I am informed that proceedings have been held up due to my illness which doesn't surprise me. Snow wouldn't want me to miss one torturous second.

My new room is on the opposite side of the dining room. It is every bit as spacious and luxurious as my old one but the thought doesn't cheer me. In just a few days the games will begin and I am charged with keeping my tributes alive. What an awful situation, to know at least three must die. Even for the winner, what awaits them? It's been a whole year since I came out. I still wake up screaming.

Auris comes to visit me. How thoughtful. She brings me blue flowers in a vase and the assurance that the public will be so glad to know I am ok. I nod her away. I have been instructed to take bed rest for at least another day. I feel terribly guilty about it; my tributes are counting on me.

The next morning war council (aka breakfast) is held in my bedroom. The twins, sandy and even Kesella perch on the end of my bed and listen to my dire advice for the arena. Everyone avoids the topic of the test. I know it will come any day now but these kids deserve to feel safe, at least for a few hours.

My teachings are cut short as my TV flickers to life. I jump a foot in the air and the tributes whirl around in surprise. There, behind his stupid mahogany desk smirks President Snow. My blood turns to ice; the test can no longer be avoided. He smiles widely with those grotesquely puffy lips and I can feel my skin begin to crawl.

"Hello again tributes!" he says cheerfully, his voice raspy as though he has recently swallowed a vat of acid. "I'm terribly sorry I took so long but I promised you a test and a test you shall get! Preparations have been made and the challenge will commence tonight at sundown. You will be escorted by your mentors to the victor's square. Remember two peoples lives depend on this. May the odds be ever in your favour."

The man makes me sick. The tributes turn to me but this time there is no argument, no noise at all really. All that passes between is a mutual agreement; there is nothing we can do now. One by one they rise to leave.

I sigh deeply and press my head in to my hands. My mind is spinning. What could the challenge be? I hope it is nothing to bad, though knowing the Capitol it will be. My heart bleeds for my tributes but I can't help but think that the two who die today are the lucky ones.

It takes a few minutes before I notice the familiar prickling on the back of my neck. I am being watched. I jerk up into sitting position and cast a few anxious looks around my room. He stands quietly by the door, eyes trained on me. Kesella never left.

"Um...hello." I stammer, I can't help but feel nervous, what if this new development causes him to freak out and attack my again? I can't deal with that.

"hello." he says simply.

His face is unreadable, a smoldering mask of irritating perfection. The way the sunlight hits it in this room offers a sense of familiarity, coupled with the fact that he hasn't tried to kill me, it's just like old times. He is silent for a time and if I know Kesella he is about to drop a bombshell. I can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, assessing how best to approach the topic. As much as I see it coming his next words shock me to the core.

"I love you Kaylar, I always have."

A strange sort of warmness spreads through my aching body. It is like nothing I have ever known. It reaches from my scalp to the tips of my toes. Even though I know this exchange is wrong, my heart can't help but flutter. I watch as he takes a step forward, eyes to the floor, a crimson blush invading his tanned complexion. My heart breaks.

"Don't say it like that." I whisper.

"Like what?" he asks, catching my eyes with his own, glistening green like the ocean, for one breath taking second.

"Like it's the last time." I breathe.

"Kaylar, you have to accept that..." he begins.

"No, I don't. I won't lose you again! I can't lose you again." I yell, crawling a few inches down the bed so that our faces are mere inches apart.

His eyes search my face. I don't know what he is looking for. Slowly he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind me ear but I flinch violently expecting attack. Hurt crosses his beautiful face, hurt so powerful that I feel tears in my eyes.

"I'm sorry I stammer."

He says nothing. He gives me one last look as though trying to commit every detail of my appearance to memory. I don't like it; it gives the impression that he doesn't anticipate seeing my face again. Once he is satisfied he turns and walks toward the door. I know I shouldn't let him leave like this but I just can't seem the find the words. I put it down to post traumatic stress from the train but I can't help being reminded of the day his father brought me my mother's necklace after the reaping. Come on Kaylar. I wet my lips.

"Kesella?' I choke.

He turns, raising a quizzical eyebrow. The gesture is genuine enough but his expression is still stony. Still the anger is evident behind his tear filled eyes. I wish I could wash it all away, have back my old Kes, the one who would curl up beside me and keep my safe from the night. Come on Kaylar it's now or never. Now or never, considering the upcoming test, the phrase is more literal than ever before.

"I love you too."

****Ok so here's the other point I wanted to make. Before anyone starts complaining about the whole Kaylar/Kes age difference thing again, they are not in love like that! It is love as in they have this really special relationship and they mean so much to each other because of all they have been through, not like they want to rip each other's clothes off. Bear that in mind. ****


	6. Chapter 6

****I'm back baby! I'll talk more at the end but I just want to say one thing, thanks for all the reviews while I've been away and for your continued support, enjoy this extra long chapter. Also if you get a chance read the two-part Hunger Games novel named The Annual 77th Hunger Games by 'TheeBookWriter'. This ficer sent me a lovely little pm so now I'm helping out. Enjoy.****

My tread is light though it is evident my presence has already been detected. The thin trees offer so little cover that I can see the bodies move and sway around the flickering camp fire. An odd silence swamps the thicket, the kind which is generic of funerals or the moment someone hears horrible news. I inch closer and stop in place so that I am clearly visible as the faces turn against the light which warms my body. I give a last shiver to throw off the cold and shuffle into the light.

The faces are clearer now. Testa grinning through her thousands of wrinkles, the three careers glaring sullenly into the gloom, my mother looking ethereal and beautiful as ever, Alix with his cheeky smile and glistening eyes and even little Ensis, her glowing eyes reflecting the jumping flames. I so desperately to join them but I know I can't, not just yet. I turn and make to sprint for the trees and that's when I see a new figure staggering across the broken twigs and dried leaves. His face stops me in my tracks and I stagger over a protuberant root. My father. My head begins to spin. Not him, not yet. I sway forwards and grab the sleeves of his work shirt trying desperately, helplessly to drag him back with me, back to the land of the living.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Up, up, up!"

I jerk painfully out of my dream. The world has become warm and damp in my absence. The luxurious sheets stick to my feverish skin and sweat beads my forehead. I feel rather ill. Auris' face swims into view overhead, her expression is one of great stress.

"I...what?" I stammer.

"It's time."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The square is dark when we arrive. My wheelchair rocks uncomfortably on the rainbow cobblestones. At Dr. Collum's insistence I am pushed along by a very flustered Auris who continues to point out how little she enjoys the lack of street lamps in this area.

"I mean honestly, you never know who could be wondering around at this time, even in the Capitol there are some tragic fashion disasters that I would not like to be associated with, thank you very much!"

At that moment huge flood lights click into action around the square, revealing haphazardly erected raised seating filled with the strange people of the city and a gaggle of disorientated looking tributes and their mentors, squinting as though staring in to the sun.

"Tributes!" booms the technologically enhanced voice of Albert Rutiger. "Welcome to your qualification challenge. Good luck and remember to watch your backs; it's a maze out there!"

A final flood light clicks on and in the centre of the square an enormous maze of luscious black hedges appears. However, I hardly even notice. My heart stops, something about those words, something I can't put my finger on jogs a memory tucked safely away in the back of my mind. It's a maze out there. I cast a glance at the labyrinth before me and then I begin to search the crowd. Sure enough, in the president's box beside the announcer himself sits Arianna Spector. Her eyes are locked on my own and there is a tinge of triumph in her smile. For a second I almost think I see her wink.

Just then a pair of strong hands grasps my shoulders and a hand pulls my up out of my chair. I steady myself on the pinching shoes that Auris picked out for me. Once I feel comfortable I grab the arms of Thalia and Sandy and pull my tributes in to a tight semi circle around me.

"Listen to me." I hiss. "This is a test of your bravery, don't take it lightly. Whatever they throw at you in that maze will be designed to hit you where it hurts. Keep fighting and remember there is still a world on the other side of those leaves."

I know it's not much to go on but I am terribly out of my league here. I feel as though I'm trying to swim to shore against an impossible current. I lean in and kiss each of the twins on the cheek and hug Kesella tightly before turning to my brother. He stares up at me. His blue eyes are round with fear; even he vaguely understands what is going on here. I squeeze his shoulders and give him a watery smile.

"I have to go in there?" he asks.

"Yes." I choke.

He nods and smiles lightly before spinning on his heel and wondering off towards the mouth of the maze. I watch him go as tears cascade down my face. I knew this moment would come sooner or later but I just didn't realise how difficult it would be. My baby brother has no chance out there and I can't even worry, I have other duties. Other duties. Duties more important than watching over my own family. And then there is Kesella. I swear all this worrying is going to kill me, not that I can afford for that to happen.

CLANG.

There goes the warning gong. I turn to my tributes and try to smile. They begin to make their way to the maze where they are separated by district along a long red line.

"10 seconds to go now tributes. Once the gong sounds you will enter the maze. Any tributes who do not reach the centre of the maze will be eliminated. There is someone waiting for you there." as he says the words huge screens come to life to show a very smug looking president Snow sitting on a throne of wood against a leafy back drop. He gives a sarcastic little wave and gestures to his watch. He is waiting. "Good luck tributes. 5 seconds now."

Ok Kaylar, stay calm. You're not the one going in there, they are. They need you right now. Breathe, breathe. A countdown appears on the largest of the screens and I drop back into my chair only to stop my legs from shaking. Here we go.

5...Thalia and Cerena grasp hands.

4...Sandy throws me a nervous glance as he shifts from foot to foot.

3...is it just me or is the maze getting darker?

2...an anxious buzz of chatter fills the air.

1...Kesella catches my eye and I can see that he is shaking.

0...CLANG. There goes the final gong. One by one the terrified tributes make their way into the labyrinth, led predictably by districts 1 and 2. After just a few seconds my tributes cross the threshold and are swallowed by the blackness of the maze and of the Capitol peoples' hearts.

Minutes pass and the air is so thick with uncertainty that I could have cut it with one of my perfectly polished finger nails. Finally the screens glow once more and after a brief blast of the Capitol anthem the cameras zero in on our gracious leader. He gives a reptilian smile as the crowd begins to cheer. Once they finally fall silent he nods and gives a luxurious wave of his hand. As he does so the cameras zoom out at sickening speed and locate the girl from one in the darkness. She is thrashing against some unseen force, assumedly screaming at the top of her lungs though no sound has penetrated the dark hedgerows. I watch in dismay as she stumbles backward and scrambles off around a corner, out of sight.

Next the cameras find the boy from 6. He has fallen to his knees facing a dead end in the maze. His shoulder shake. I can just imagine the terrified sobs which escape his lungs with every painful breath. I have been in his position. As I tear my eyes away from the screen and glance at the other mentors, I realise we all have. I fantasize for a second that this could bring us together, united us in hatred for our oppressors but I know this is a fools dream. In the Hunger Games there is only one rule, kill or be killed. I assume this stretches to mentors as well.

After another 10 close ups on the captives the cameras finally shift on to one of my own tributes, Sandy. Judging by the lightness of the scene I assume he has hardly strayed from the entrance though he wouldn't dare come back out, (a fleet of peacekeepers is guarding the way, guns poised to shoot on sight.) He sits with his back to one of the hedges, breathing heavily as the black leaves caress his face. As I watch him I wonder what is going through his head. Does he realise, like I that these are his final moments in this world? I feel so powerless. All I can do is hope and pray that my father is still too ill to watch.

Time passes in huge chunks and I can barely keep a hold of myself as I watch tribute after tribute fight for their life and their sanity in the maze. I can't help but think on the cruelty. Maybe those who don't make it are the lucky ones; I can't imagine coming out of something like this only to be thrown into an arena days later, it's like dangling a carrot in front of their young faces just to snatch it away. Poor little tributes. It disgusts me so much that I lean over and spit on the glistening tiles. It's a weak display of rebellion I know but it makes me feel a little better. How do you like that, Mr. President?

All of a sudden I become aware of the others watching me. At first I think they are just scoping me out and assessing how much of a threat I am to their tributes but after sometime I realise that it is something more. I turn my head sharply away from the girl from 3 attempting to strangle the girl from 8 and catch eyes with a brutish man who is at least 6 foot tall and covered in tattoos and scars. We stare at each other for a moment and then the strangest thing happens. Slowly the man reaches around his back and mimes pulling something from it. He then proceeds to tear the thing in to tiny squares, making a ripping noise by whistling through his few remaining teeth. Suddenly I realise what he is getting at. I nod curtly and turn back to the action but not before I recognize the expression on his face, on all of their faces; admiration.

A few minutes later a gong sounds and a glowing number 3 and a number 1 appear at the side of the screen which is currently focusing on Kesella as he struggles to find a pathway. The cameras quickly change their field of vision and suddenly I can see the president on his throne at the heart of the maze. At his feet sit the girl from 3 and the boy from 1, smiles of relief lighting up their faces as he talks down to them. As we watch a third figure stumbles into the clearing and drops to its knees with a sigh of abatement. Thalia. She crawls forward like some kind of feral animal and scans the faces of the others, quickly realizing that her sister is not among them.

Hour after hour passes in this way until a streak of gold appears on the horizon. At long last the torture is over and the anthem roars as the Capitol begins to wake. One at a time the tributes crawl out of the maze and the peacekeepers fall back. First come 1 and 3, the first to the heart. They look relatively unscathed and this is understandable as they spent least time roaming the darkness. District after district emerges until it is evident that the first casualty is the boy from 6 who is nowhere to be seen.

The last tributes out are my own. Kesella reaches the light first and stretches his arms above his head, basking in the light of the oncoming day. He scans the crowd for me and gives me a half smile that almost causes me to melt in to a puddle and forget the less than ideal situation we are both in. Stop it Kaylar, you know what is happening here. Two children have just been handed a death warrant, for the rest it's only a matter of time, don't get too attached. It's easier said than done however as he watches me through his sea-foam eyes. His face is smeared with dirt and his hair slicked back against his scalp with sweat but still he takes my breath away. There is only one thing that could break this moment and it comes almost instantly.

"Well done tributes!" booms Albert, causing us all to jump. "To those of you who made it out of the maze, congratulations, you have qualified for the honour of representing your districts in the 64th annual Hunger Games. This is how you currently stand."

The screens glow once more and a list of the emerging tributes appears on each, in order of arrival at the president's feet. It takes a few moments for me to notice, for it to sink in. The screens cut out into the maze and the screen splits in half, one half showing the boy from 6 curled on his side in the dirt and the other my own little brother staring in to the still dark maze and mouthing my name.

"To those of you who weren't so fortunate." continues Albert causing my brother to look up and the boy from six to simply twitch. "I'm afraid you will never leave this maze again."

He leaves the idea hanging in the morning air. As though in slow motion the peacekeepers stride forward and begin to seal the only entrance. I feel my heart break. I force my way out of my chair and stagger forward only to fall to the cobble stones. People surge forward to help me but I have already clambered to my feet. My screams break the silence and the crowd whirls around to watch as my own face appears on the screens. I look insane, desperate but I couldn't care any less. I claw and bite at the peacekeepers and mentors who try to restrain me.

"Kaylar!" yells an unsettled Auris over the noise. "This is not how a young lady or a victor should act!"

I slap her across the face. an incredulous silence swamps the square. This moment of shock gives me the opportunity I needed. I wrench out of my captors' grasp and race across the square, kicking off my silly shoes as I go. When I reach the maze I don't even slow down. I hurdle the peacekeepers at the entrance and plunge in to the blackness. Taking wrong turn after wrong turn, I begin to understand the despair felt by my tributes only hours earlier. Sandy is nowhere to be seen. I try to imagine the prospect of spending my whole life in this place. Where would I go if I was faced with that future?

Finally I stumble in to an open area. It looks just like the rest of the maze except wider, more spacious. Exits lead off in every direction. The heart of the maze. My heart thuds painfully against my chest as my eyes fall on a large wooden throne rising from the manicured grass in the centre of the space. It is empty. I stare around at my surroundings. Still no sign of the fallen tributes. I cross to the throne and drop into it as dizziness and desperation take over my body. I can only imagine how much the Capitol are enjoying this little scandal on the outside. I can't help but wonder if they will simply seal me in here with the others, though I doubt it, I'm much too entertaining. I press my head into my hands and begin to sob as the reality of the situation crashes down on me.

"Looking for me?"

I freeze and suddenly the comfortable throne feels as though it is woven from thorns. Slowly I raise my head and come face to face with Coriolanus Snow. Rage courses through my veins but I know better now than to act upon it. Instead i get defiantly to my feet and look him straight in his cold, snakelike eyes. He grins widely and the metallic scent of blood mingled with freshly cut flowers almost chokes me.

"You know exactly who I'm looking for, where is he?" I demand.

"That's not so important right now Kaylar." he hisses. "What matters is that we still have you. We still own you girl, sometimes you need to be reminded of that. I brought you something."

He forces a heavy white box into my hands and I drop it like it is a poisonous spider. He shrugs his thin shoulders and turns to go, leaving me alone once more with only my own hopelessness and guilty heartbeat for company. Just as the darkness swallows up his silhouette I hear him call:

"Be sure to open it Kaylar. I'm sure it's contents will interest you. Oh, and Kaylar…maybe this will teach you who's in charge around here."

The man makes me sick, quite literally. I lean over the embossed arm of the throne and vomit on to the grass. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I stretch out and grasp the box by its spotless white ribbon. with trembling hands I hold it against my right ear and gently shake it. I doesn't rattle, it just makes a dull sort of thud. Intrigued I pull on the ribbon and watch it unravel before dropping it to the ground. I ease off the lid and have only glanced inside for a second or two before I drop it to the ground and stagger back in to the throne, dropping to my knees in the dirt and crawling as far away from the box as possible.

After a few seconds of cowering in the shadows I creep forward and prod the remains of the president's gift with a stick I snapped off one of the hedges. I turn over the lid to reveal the contents. Fresh blood drips on to the grass. I retch into my hand but with a flick of my other wrist I manage to flip the box away so that the thing lands in the middle of the grass inches from my knees. A hand, a human hand. It bleeds heavily from where it has been crudely severed at the wrist. It has stiffened in death and among its fingers it clutches a single white rose. It repulses me but I can't tear my eyes away from it, for I know who's hand that is, the wedding band once given to its owner still glints around it's finger. My father.

****So this is my apology for being M.I.A for such a long time. I hope you enjoyed. R&R or the ghost of Snow will eat you in your sleep…not really but you get the idea. Good news is my last exam is Friday and after that it will be update after update. The popularity of this stuff never ceases to amaze me…someone actually approached me about wanting to make a film about this story! I'll keep you people posted on that. Sorry again guys!****


	7. Chapter 7

****No more exams, huzzzaaaaah! Finally I am back to full time writing, (part time school) did you miss me? So here's a new update. Read and enjoy. I also noticed books can now have covers, happy Megan. For the Kaylar Abyss covers I'm going to try and get a picture of the girl playing Kaylar in the film.****

I wake to the feel of Kesella's warm touch lingering on my bruised neck as he runs his fingers through my messy blonde hair. Our shoulders touch beneath the blankets and I feel tiny electric charges dancing across my warm skin. So this is what woke me.

Slowly I roll on to my back so that he forced to let go. For a few precious moments I lie there enjoying the period of silence and denial before the day truly begins. When I finally open my eyes Kesella is not wearing the expression I had expected him to. The cool morning light reflects off the tears which have gathered in the corners of his startling eyes. I can feel the slight tremors in his hands as he grips the sheets in his fist. The air around us seems to get a few degrees cooler. He opens his mouth and closes it immediately, stuttering incomprehensively for some time before he is capable of forming words:

"Whatever they tell you, I did it for you, I promise. I would never hurt you again."

My hand flies to my still bruised throat as I push up on to my elbows. Something about this feels terribly wrong, I feel suddenly on edge. Quickly I stare around my room. Sure enough the doorway is clogged with Capitol workers from my old friends the Avoxes to heavily armed Peacekeepers. Standing at the forefront of it all is Panem's Minister for Defense and National Security, Nestor Avalon. I recognize his face from the day he came to District 4 to activate the new electric fence, trapping us all. For a moment I am utterly perplexed and can do nothing but stare open mouthed between my favourite person in the world and the gathering authorities. Then a gleaming something catches my eye, a pair of handcuffs swinging from Nestor's belt.

"Alright." squeaks Nestor in his unexpectedly high voice. "You've had your ten minutes son, now we have to go."

He unclips the handcuffs and offers them to the front two peacekeepers who shuffle in behind large, clear shields. Each grabs one of Kesella's arms and I can only watch in terror as he is led out in to the corridor. At long last, bursts of adrenaline fill my veins and I find my voice:

"What…what are you doing? Where are you taking him?" I stammer.

"Mam, it would be a great help if you could stay quiet and try not to interfere." calls Nestor, the threat is in his eyes but I struggle to take him seriously with that ridiculous voice. "Don't worry; we'll take good care of him."

Somehow I don't believe him. I attempt to get to my feet but I become so entwined in my sheets that I am forced to resort to screaming his name hysterically. I have lost Sandy and assumedly my father, I can't lose Kesella too.

By the time I untangle myself neither Kesella nor the enforcers are anywhere to be seen, the only person that remains is Nestor who watches me with an amused smile. He is so rat like in appearance that I feel inclined to advise him to steer clear of Snow, should he get peckish. I don't however, I don't have the time. Instead I flee, running the halls of the training centre in a crazed frenzy, crying and tripping over my own feet. I can hear the sounds of pursuit form Nestor and I briefly wonder if he will arrest me too…not that he will get the chance.

That's when I run straight in to Auris. Her right cheek is still red where I hit her the day before and she has tried to mask it with make up giving her the appearance of a particularly well made up tomato. Despite this she doesn't look in the least angry with me. On the contrary her face is ashen and her eyes sad. Nonetheless she attempts a happy smile as I bounce off her finely tailored suit.

"Auris you have to help me! They took him, they took Kesella" I yell and he face falls unmistakably. "You know something don't you? Oh Auris, you have to tell me!"

"He...he killed 3 peacekeepers, the ones who tried to chase you into that maze. That's why no one followed you. He is under arrest for...for murder Kaylar."

I know I should be surprised, shocked, horrified even but all I can do is eye Auris suspiciously. After all, I of all people know exactly what my old friend is capable of since his return from the dead. We stand there in the gradually lightening corridor until I hear the heavy footfalls and ragged breathing of a certain approaching Capitol official. After a few awkward seconds Nestor rounds the corner, a look of fiery determination in his eyes. He grips me firmly by both shoulders and I get the impression that my own arrest is imminent but I won't allow that to happen. No, I've hatched a plan of my own. Painfully, I twist myself around against his hold and face him so that our noses are mere inches apart. He draws a sharp breath of surprise. I grin and seize my opportunity, starting off up the hall.

I don't hear them following so much as _feel_ them. Their footsteps are swallowed by the deep carpet in this part of the building but I can sense that familiar burning at the nape of my neck, the burning of hostile gaze. I make it to the elevators before I feel Nestor's yellowish talons dig into my skin. He spins me around to face him once more with an annoyingly triumphant smirk on his thin face. I force myself to hold his gaze, hoping that the fear growing in my heart isn't reflected in my eyes as I search desperately for something to say. I come to an idea and suppose that since I am about to be apprehended anyway, a bit of well natured insolence can't get me in to any more trouble.

"If you want me to play your game Mr. Avalon," I sneer, peeling his grubby hand away from my skin. "Then I shall go wherever I like."

I take a few seconds to drink in his incredulous expression. The tribute in my feels a burning desire to track down a very heavy object and smash it around his beastly head but instead I climb in to the elevator as it arrives and laugh through the gradually closing gap between the doors as I sink out of their reach.

The smirk remains firmly on my face as I march straight out of the training centre and across the strangely empty city circle. It's only as I mount the steps that my resolve wavers but I push on, whispering Kesella's name in my mind. If I hadn't been so full of endorphins I feel I might have gotten lost in the sprawling mansion but white hot adrenaline still coursed through my veins and before I knew it I was standing before the President's study door.

In that moment's hesitation is probably the first time I truly think about what I am doing. Feelings that had plagued me since I crossed the mansion's threshold begin to dig roots in the front lobes of my brain. It was too easy. Shouldn't the president of our great nation have better security than that? I get the ominous feeling that our gracious President will be less than surprised when I push open his door. I take a second to steady myself and then in I must go, for Kesella.

At first I don't notice the president; all I can focus on is my poor Kesella, shackled to a straight backed chair in one corner of the familiar study. I run to him, dropping to my knees at his feet as I try to free him. I begin to cry in desperation and he just watches me, unable to communicate through his gag.

I jump back when I hear the thump. A small silver key lands in the carpet before me. For a moment I just stare at it as though it were the world's most venomous snake then, ever so slowly I turn around. Snow lounges casually against his expensive desk. He sees me turn and gives me a sarcastic little wave. I can't help it; I shuffle away a couple of inches in disgust. Silence passes between us as Snow pastes an expression of fake hurt on his horrid face. Finally I pluck up the courage to try the key. It works.

"I'm not so cruel after all." mutters Snow when Kesella is finally free. "It hurts me that you think I am some kind of monster, rules must be upheld."

Kesella lunges forward and takes a swing for the president's head but he blocks it with surprising agility and draws a silver revolver form his coat. I grab Kes by the wrist and drag him back so that all that lies between us and those bullets is the white carpet and Snow's questionable conscious. The president leers happily at our unease.

"Murder is punishable by death, I'm sure you know that." he drawls, fingering the gun menacingly as he passes it from hand to slimy hand. "Kesella must be punished."

"I thought your games were 'punishment enough.'" I counter, taking a brave step towards him.

To my surprise he bursts in to laughter and I fall back quickly, shocked in to silence. I glance at Kesella. His eyes are narrowed against the President's amused face as he sizes up the situation. I wonder if he is running through all the possible exit strategies in his head like I am.

"Your spirit amuses me and for that i will let you go girl," he continues. "But he stays. That's non-negotiable."

He watches me intently, trying to gauge my reaction to his words. I take in his snake-like features, feeling a burning hatred for each and every cell of his being. I am surprised to say the least when he speaks without moving his horrific lips. I am stumped for a second but then I realise the voice was too soft, too familiar.

"Go." Kesella repeats, his mouth close to my ear. "I can manage on my own, the others need you."

"How very noble of you young man." interjects Snow. "Unfortunately, she has no choice."

That's when I notice the doorway full of Peacekeepers and for the second time that day I am forced to accept fate as it is handed to me. I give Kesella's strong hand one final squeeze and begin to cross the room, giving myself up. Snow's expression chills me to the core, the satisfaction, the triumph. As a rebellious after thought I race back across the study and stand on my toes, crashing my lips against Kesella's. We stay this way for minutes, hours, years. My breath is taken away as I finally shrink back. Kesella's face is clouded, a faint smile plays on his lips but his eyes are full of confusion. He searches my face briefly before he bursts out laughing. Quickly I join him, sensing his desire to irritate our great leader. It appears to be working.

Slowly I turn and walk to the waiting Peacekeepers once more but not before I catch Snow's gaze. For the first time our President looks affected. His face is shrouded in shock for a few seconds and I feed on this as the Peacekeepers cuff me roughly. It feels too good, I can't resist.

"I always have a choice, Coriolanus."

****Hope you liked it people. There is definitely a film of my first books, I have been sent the first scene. I will keep you people posted. Thanks for reading, review and I will send you flowers…probably. TWM, out.****


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning I am debriefed rather aggressively by Auris and then I am finally left to my tributes again. Cerena and Thalia sit side by side at the dining table when I push open the door. Both look up with surprised expressions as I enter. They glance at each other briefly and then, in perfect unison they grin.

"Kaylar!" squeals Thalia, rushing towards me.

"We were so worried!" finishes Cerena, joining he sister at my side as they both hug me sharply.

When they release me I lead them over to the sturdy table and pull up a chair as they beg me for details. I tell them simply that Kesella was taken away by Peacekeepers and they just nod, they saw what happened outside the maze. I don't have time to say anything more. Before we know it we are being ushered from the room by the Avoxes. The opening ceremony is finally upon us.

We travel between the Training and Remake centre's in a convoy of slick, black cars. Once inside a swarm of Peacekeepers descends on us and we are separated as the girls are no doubt lead off to their stylists. Once the chaos has passed I fall in to a soft chair in a corner of the lobby.

I am more than a little surprised when I see the man. He approaches from a doorway across the marble floor from where I am sitting. He is tall, dark and broad shouldered. It is his face that strikes me the most. His square jaw looks as though it could cut like a razor and above that he has full lips and a long, straight nose. The eyes that twinkle from beneath his shiny black hair are a most peculiar shade of pale grey. They look like they have seen everything. Most importantly he looks like he knows a rather interesting secret. Without missing a beat he takes the seat directly beside my own so that our elbows touch on the shared arm rest. He doesn't even spare me a glance as he says:

"I've heard you're something of an escape artist."

If you were judging by his face alone you would have guessed that he had just asked me for the time or commented on the day's weather. Considering where we are, I don't feel the need to draw any more attention to our situation. He doesn't look any older than 16 though there is an aura of maturity that radiates from his every pore. I am frozen in time for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do next.

"Yes." I whisper, trying to keep my face as impassive as he did.

"In that case," he mutters "I need your help."

There is a moment's silence between us as we both take in the situation. He doesn't even glance around the lobby but I get the feeling that he shouldn't be here. Finally, he spins around in his chair, extending his hand for me to shake with a mischievous smile on his face.

"Ocala." he introduces himself.

"Kaylar." I answer.

"I know."

Then he gets up and strides across the hall and back through the door once more without even sparing me a backward glance. I sit in my confusion as I watch him go. What just happened? All I know for sure is that a very handsome young stranger just asked me for my help and in the current state of things, I am determined to give it to him.

The next person to join me is my old stylist Dolor. I am so relieved to see a friendly face that I fall willingly in to his warm arms as he extends them to me. I stay there, clinging to every second I spend in his comfortable embrace as he begins to chuckle softly in my ear.

"Hello to you too!" exclaims Dolor happily.

"Hi." I whisper, my voice muffled by the folds of his magnificent cloak.

The denial lasts only a few more seconds before it hits me. I sit up sharply and hit my head off Dolor's chin making him laugh even harder. I don't laugh with him however, the moment has suddenly become more serious and I can see it in his eyes that he wants to put it off a little longer. Whatever he came to tell me, I can sense that it is not something I will want to hear.

"What is it Dolor? Just tell me." I plead, searching his face for some illusive clue.

"I…" he tails off and I gesture rather violently with my hands for him to go on. He swallows and glances at me awkwardly before continuing. "It's Kesella."

"I knew it." I breathe. "Is he…I mean…is he dead?"

"Not yet." sighs Dolor. "Not yet. Kaylar, they have has this…idea."

"Yeah?"

"He can't participate in the games, he is still in questioning." he begins and I just nod, desperate to hear more. "They want to offer you a compromise. You for him. They won't hurt him Kaylar, they'll let him go if…if you agree to replace him."

It takes a few minutes for that to sink in. Me, go back to the games? The thought cuts straight through to my core just like a poison arrow (I would know.) In a flash my head is full of horrific images from the 63rd games, bouncing off each other until I feel that my head will explode. I put my head in my arms, crossed over my knees as I draw them in to my chest. At that moment I don't even care that I am in a bustling lobby in the Capitol and I begin to cry into my hands.

Dolor puts a hand on my shoulder and whispers that I can stay here, that I don't have to go but I do and he knows it, I know it, snow knows it. I imagine the smirk on his reptilian face as he passed this message down to my. My words from the night before ring freshly in my ears: "I always have a choice." But this time I don't and he knows it. Now we are even, Snow: 1 Kaylar: 1. I don't know who will land the next blow or who will be victorious but there is one thing I can say for certain. This is war.

"We don't have much time." I say, sitting up with growing determination in my heart and swiping the tears away from my cheeks. "Come on Dolor, the ceremony is starting soon, I have to get ready."

He stares at me for a second, his eyes moving back and forth across my set jaw and determined face. Then slowly, he nods and takes me hand, leading me in to one of the many elevators that line the room. Up we go and before I know it we are entering a familiar room and Dolor is snapping his fingers for my prep team. They come scurrying out of the shadows, Pectine, Umbra and Clavis, just as I remembered them. I try not to think of our previous meetings, try not to think of anything at all, and try not to feel because I know that if I do I will lose it.

After a few short hours I am ready and I stand shakily in an elevator which carries me down to the basement of the Remake Centre. I join the other tributes who all turn to me and gasp. I mount my chariot and ignore the curious glance I am attracting from all sides. No backing down now, the Capitol is waiting for me. They just don't know it yet.


	9. Chapter 9

****Hi there. I watched the first scene of the movie…oh lord; it's so weird to see it in front of me. It's good; I can't wait to see more. Do you like the covers? They are just temporary. The one for this story is hand drawn by moi. Enjoy the chapter! REVIEW. ****

The once empty city circle that we passed through just hours earlier is packed with screaming, unfamiliar faces as the doors open and the chariots take to the streets. Thousands of people stare up at the tributes as we pass by in our fantastical costumes. Some wave, some smile or wink, every tribute has their own approach.

Personally I just stare straight ahead, allowing my past in this place to do the talking for me. I remember something Dolor once told me, that sometimes silence is the best rebellion and not to do exactly what is expected can be the best way to fight your corner. So I keep my face blank as we are paraded around the circle like boats at an auction.

There is only one place I can think to focus my gaze as the scenery shifts constantly around me; the reliable old screens which show our every blink in brilliant colour. I watch closely as my freshly painted competition appears one by one in their silly outfits, overwhelmed by the enormity of the Capitol people.

There is a particularly surly looking brute from district one. His blonde hair is slicked back against his thick head and he glowers at the crowd with his harsh face. The girl from his district is small and pretty with striking white-blonde hair and caramel eyes. She goes for the flirtatious approach, giggling and blowing kisses.

None of the faces really surprise me as I watch them flick by; soon they will all be dead. Same old story, same old tributes. That is, until the tributes from district 12 pass by. I watch blankly as a predictably malnourished girl appears and then my heart stops as the cameras turn to the boy. There, in his brilliant flaming chariot and matching tie and waistcoat stands Ocala. He takes the same approach as me, looking onwards as though he is above the situation. I watch as he rides regally by. Then I begin to get angry.

How dare he come and speak to me, asking for my help. He knew, someone told him. Ocala knew that I was to compete in the 64th Games. This revelation makes me angry and I watch my expression turn stonier and stonier as my chariots appears once more on the screens. His words echo in my ears:

"I've heard you're something of an escape artist."

So I am already going to be used, I got two people out once, I can do it again. So it begins. But what he possibly doesn't realise is that i'm not getting out, not this time, no way. Snow has this all planned down to the last detail, I'd bet my life on it, though I suppose I already am.

As the chariots pull in to the basement of the training centre I seek him out of the crowd. His bright red attire draws my eye as he gets in to an elevator. I race after him, throwing other tributes aside and jamming my elbow in between the metal doors so that they are forced to open just wide enough for a little girl like me to slip through. I allow the doors to click softly closed before I round on him.

"What on earth do you think you are doing?" I yell, pressing my back against the cool metal walls and covering my eyes with my hands.

"Hello Kaylar." he says calmly, his voice seeming to bring the temperature down a few degrees in the tight space.

"You can't just use me to get out of this! You know i'm not getting out, you know that!"

"Do I?" he whispers and I jump and quickly open my eyes to see that he has crossed the floor and now stands only centimeters in front of me.

"I don't...yes, yes you do!" I say, momentarily dazed by his sudden movement. "He's not going to let me; you knew that, you knew I was competing...you...wait how did you know?"

He chuckles softly and reaches a heavy hand up to tuck the loose strands of my blonde hair behind my left ear. From there he traces the line of my jaw until his fingers come to a rest beneath my chin.

"I have my ways." he whispers, more intensely now.

"But..." I tail off, terrified by the situation as he takes a final step forward so that our bodies touch.

"You need my help." he continues, using his fingers to tilt my chin upwards so that my eyes are locked on his. "I need yours. I'm sure we can work something out."

With that he leans slowly forward and gives me a final smirk before pressing his lips hard against mine. I just stand there for a moment totally nonplussed, eyes wide open and fixed on his face. His grey eyes are shut and I can't help but notice how long his lashes look as they curl off of his cheeks. Slowly, I allow my eyes to shut too and I feel his lips on mine. Warmth spreads from my scalp right down the soles of my feet but just as I reach up to place a hand on his body he pulls back.

I keep my eyes shut for a moment, not entirely sure what I should do. When I peel them open Ocala is standing back on the other side of the elevator, hands behind his head as he leans in to the metal. That irritating grin is back on his face as he studies me closely.

"Ocala, I..."

"4...this is you." he mutters.

I turn to see the doors open to reveal my floor. Cerena and Thalia are framed in the silver doorway, looking from Ocala to me with sheer confusion etched into their made up faces. I smile to reassure them. In the split second that remains I cross the elevator and stand on my toes, pressing my mouth to his ear:

"Deal." I whisper.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"She did what?" yells Auris as we sit around the small table in the TV room hours later.

I throw a glare at Cerena and she lowers her eyes, shrugging her apology as though she acted for the greater good. Auris crosses the room and grabs my wrist, the way she used to when I stressed her out. I am a little worried, Auris can be…unpredictable when she is upset. Our eyes meet for a moment. She searches my face and then shakes her magnificent head, sitting down hard on the table so that our knees touch.

"Kaylar! You can't keep doing this." she sighs, her face tired as she rubs her eyes. "You're not doing yourself any good, you know, causing trouble…again!"

"Kaylar we're sorry." pouts Cerena.

"It was for the best." adds Thalia.

"Shut up!" I scream, jumping to my feet as anger fills my body to the brim, if I don't vent to these idiots I'll explode. "You think I don't know that? Don't you people see? There is nothing I can do. I may as well enjoy the time I have left."

With that I turn and leave, slamming the door hard behind me. I linger for a moment in the corridor, watching as it shakes on it's hinges. I can't help but think it's something of a metaphor for my life; shaken from the core, inches from falling apart completely. I lean against the white wall as I catch my breath from my outburst. Then I zip off to my room before someone comes out to fetch me.

Once inside I slide down the wooden door and press my head into my knees. I squeeze my arms tightly around my legs and nip the skin just above my elbow in an attempt to clear my mind. It takes a few minutes to realise what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling; guilt. Tears come and I let them soak in to my opening costume. Silence presses on my ear drums until I hear myself whisper:

"Kesella."

I don't know where it came from. The word sparks a horrific chain reaction and every neuron in my brain whirs to life. Suddenly all I can see are images of my Kesella, chained to a wall somewhere in the President's basement, suffering, suffering for me, because of me. Meanwhile I'm kissing strangers in elevator cars. It takes a while for the self loathing to fade but once I am calm I get slowly to my feet and hit the shower.

I stay under the torrent of hot water until I feel that I might melt. I slip in to clean under clothes and then crawl into my soft bed. The mattress poofs up to envelop my still damp body as I close my aching eyes and allow sleep to invade my brain. I force myself to believe that it's for the best, that I need a strong ally like Ocala but every time his face appears in my mind I feel a bitter sense of guilt. In the seconds that remain before I drift off I try one last thing to settle my mind:

"I'm so sorry Kesella."

My words are captured by the growing dark of the night and gradually I fall into a fit full sleep.

**.**

**.**

**.**

I only sleep for two hours or so before I hear the knock at the door. I start and eye the door curiously as I shuffle towards the end of the bed and flick on the light. I swing my legs over the edge and feel the deep carpet between my bare toes. Whipping on my thin robe I place a hand on the door handle. From here I hesitate for a few seconds, the last time I received a knock on my door at this time I was almost blown up and I lost my old mentor Testa. The visitor knocks again, clearly growing impatient and after a few shorts breaths I pull open the door.

On the other side of the wood stands my Avox friend from so long ago. She smiles shyly as she hands me a scrap of paper which has been tightly rolled and secured with a blood red ribbon. I take it from her and mutter my thanks. She gives a tiny nod and then starts off up the corridor. I watch her go before closing the door and unrolling the scroll.

Dear Kaylar,

Since you have chosen to take me up on my very generous offer, you will now take on the role of both tribute and mentor. Due to the unfortunate set back in proceedings this year, Training will have to be something of a rushed affair. You and your tributes will report to the basement gym at 2:00am for the next two nights. May the odds be ever in your favour.

P.S. Kesella sends his greetings. He is well, we're keeping him company. Watch your step Kaylar, his life depends on you.

Kind Regards,

Coriolanus Snow.

It takes a little while for me to catch my breath. I stare at the little note and read and re-read the slanted scrawl, searching for some hidden meaning in the words. My heart pounds against my ribs and I suddenly feel very uncomfortable indeed. The shadows in the corners of my room seem to shift ominously and the twilight of the Capitol is very eerie indeed. I cast a glance at the little clock on the nightstand. 1:48am. I shake my shoulders to throw off the chill that is creeping in to my bones. One breath is all it takes this time. I have something to focus on and I push the horrible thoughts out of my heavy head. Better go wake the others Kaylar, it's time to train.

I slip into some comfortable clothes and as an afterthought, I slip the note neatly in to my pocket. Letting myself in to the dim corridor I shut the door lightly at my back and then quickly read the note one more time. It may have been my imagination but as I started off towards the girls' rooms, I could have sworn the foreboding smell of genetically modified roses mixed with the metallic stench of blood wafted up the corridor after me.


	10. Chapter 10

****I'm sorrrrry. I actually do have a good excuse this time. See I was getting a lot of hassle at school so I had to leave and I've been spending a lot of my time checking out other schools and comfort eating so yes, I'm sorry I neglected you all. Forgive me? ****

The gym is pitch black. I lead the girls through the door, poised to spring in to attack mode at any moment as our footsteps echo off the vaulted ceiling, lost in the black expanse above us. There doesn't appear to be anyone else around. We get about half way down the room before lights begin to click noisily on from the surrounding walls. Suddenly the room is flooded with a manufactured greyish light, revealing a few haggard looking teenagers squinting against the glare. All around us is the familiar training equipment, spread across the hall in little groups by speciality. Weapons, camouflage, it hasn't change a bit since last year. We wait for a moment but are greeted by nothing but the deathly silence which fills the space. I take a step forward under one of the light fixtures and stare up into the balcony:

"Well…" I say, "We're here. What do you want us to do?"

There is a whirring noise and I jump back in to the shadow, grabbing for Cerena's hand. Cerena has at least 2 feet on me, everyone in the room does but as they look round at me for some clue as to what we should do I realise that they are intimidated by me, I am a victor after all. I glance at each of them in turn. Their faces vary in age and colour be each wears the exact some expression; desperation.

"Hello?" I whisper.

Just then the machinery around us creaks suddenly to life. Arrows fly from the automated targets, axes slide in to waiting hands, heavy objects begin to drop from the ceiling. From black doors positioned around the walls, cloaked men begin to flood into our midst. I scream for everyone to get down but even as I say it I know exactly what is happening.

"Welcome to training." calls a disembodied voice.

I grab a serrated knife from a rack to my left and race in to the crowd of people attempting to get their bearings. I'm the most experienced of us all; they are likely to target me. I sprint to the other end of the gym and sure enough five cloaked men chase after me, cornering me up against the edible plants table. For I moment I just stand there, playing the rabbit caught in the head lights. The men accept their victory and close in so that I can feel them breathing. That's when I reach behind me. I throw the first thing that comes to my hand, a tub of crushed purple berries. The pot hits one of the men squarely in the eye and he swears and stumbles back, swiping the stinging concoction out of his face.

I don't waste my opportunity. I place one foot on the man's back and push hard, propelling myself over his crumpled body and wincing at the cracks my foot causes it to make. I run harder than I ever have, back towards the others. They have separated in to smaller groups and each takes on a couple of men. Cerena and Thalia stand arm in arm, brandishing twin daggers, and the careers have predictably disappeared to one side and are firing arrows in to the maelstrom, not checking whether they strike friend or foe. I'm cheered to see that for the most part, the tributes are winning.

I spin on my heel and stare around the room. A lone attacker approaches me. I slam my knife hilt against the side of his neck. He crumples. Nothing is going to distract me, for I have found what I was looking for. There, in the uppermost corner of the hall stands Ocala, alone and fighting at least 20 men. He whirls like a demon, sword in hand, cutting down enemy after enemy. But already he is growing lethargic, sloppy with his footwork, having more close calls than I care to watch. A large man approaches and blocks the sword with his bare fist. Ocala stumbles back and catches sight of me, his eyes twinkle.

The decision is arbitrary, I know that but I race in to the crowd, parrying and jabbing as I go. The men close in tightly and I can hardly breathe. They strike me on the thigh, the shoulder, the stomach but my arms have no space to move. I keep pushing in the direction I judge to be towards Ocala. I can hear him grunting in pain or annoyance every so often over the din of the fight.

I'm beginning to lose the ability to forge on when suddenly I break free. The lights of the gym blind me and I stumble straight in to another man. I turn on him and use the momentum, of his attack against him, pull him down so that my blade is pressed hard against his throat. I'm panting now, so much fear and adrenaline, I feel as though I might explode. I push the knife harder, watching as a tear of blood trickles over the man's collarbone. I'm so lost in this cruel pleasure that I don't notice the man gargle as he tries desperately to speak. I push him further. He chokes.

"Kaylar! Kaylar!" someone cries but the voice seems far away and tinny. "Kaylar, Please!"

Someone grabs my wrist. I try to wrench it form their hold but I can't, they hold fast in an iron grip. I have to finish this. I take the knife in my left hand, it's weaker but I can still handle the blade. As the hands pull me back I run it softly along the thing's jaw. It whimpers gently and I feel a cold smile spreading across my face. I allow it to make one last desperate plea and then I run the blade along its throat. It goes limp and falls away from me, a crimson smile yawning where its throat once was. Task completed I fall in to the pull of the hands, watching with grim elation as the blood which is not my own blossoms across my white shirt.

"Kaylar what the hell are you doing?" the voice comes again, stronger this time.

Ocala presses his face against my own, keeping my wrists pressed flat against the ground. I can feel his breath on my cheeks and his claws digging in to my arms. I press against them, kicking and flailing to escape. I even bite at his face, lips drawn back. He doesn't jump back in terror or even flinch. I watch him carefully, allowing my rapid heartbeat to slow. Sounds begin to fill the room. Marching boots, yelling voices. My eyes widen with fear.

"It's okay Kaylar, its alright." whispers Ocala but I can't bring myself to focus on him, my mind sits with another boy.

"Kesella?" I croak. "I love you too."

**.**

**.**

**.**

An incessant beeping wakes me. I feel irritable and tired. There is a thin film of cold sweat which clings to my skin, making my blankets stick uncomfortably to me. It takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room and a few seconds more for me to realise that I am not alone.

"My, my. I had always guessed you were trouble girl, but I know now that I underestimated quite how many problems you could cause. It's curious that such a little thing can create such a big stink. And my dear, you have certainly done just that."

My blood freezes in my veins. I don't even have to look around to tell who it is, though I don't think I could have, had I tried. The smell returns. It lingers in my nostrils and makes the back of my throat feel dry and papery. It chokes me mercilessly. My heart pounds in my ears. My eyes begin to prickle and water.

"Coriolanus," I say, fighting to keep my voice level, "How nice to see you again."

I can almost feel that serpentine smile spread across his deathly pale face. I smile too, I can't help myself. Here I am, causing trouble for the poor old Capitol once again. The president bristles. I hear the groan of his chair as he gets coolly to his feet. My aching muscles tense as he pushes his grotesque face close to mine, his breath slowly asphyxiating me with its foulness. I instinctively bring a hand up to shield my nose but I see the blood caked under my nails and quickly bring it back down.

"It's such a pity you can't seem to see It." he exhales.

"See what?" I spit, trying desperately not to gag.

"What excellent allies we could be." I snort and he draws his face back quickly, the smile reappearing. "I brought you a gift. I didn't want it anymore; I thought it might be of more use to you."

He strolls away and I hear his low heeled shoes clicking against the polished floor. A door swings shut then open again. Then comes a new sound, metallic and clanking, like chains coiling and uncoiling and slapping against something solid. I'm so sorely tempted to look but I refuse to give the president the satisfaction. I hear a raw animalistic grunt followed by something else, something all too familiar. A smell infuses the antibacterial scent of the hospital air. Wood smoke, citrus.

I sit up so quickly that my head begins to spin. My whole body aches but I can't think on it right now. As the haze clears I can't believe what I am seeing. He crawls in on hands and knees. His nails have grown long and curved like talons and they are full of black dirt and unmistakeable blood. His clothes are unrecognisable rags, his face gaunt, filthy and scarred. A chain is tied around his throat and I can see weeping sores where it presses hard against his skin. The chain is held at one end by a bulky peacekeeper. The president lingers behind and watches with open amusement on his snakelike face.

I leap out of my bed, swaying a little on my feet as I surge forward and fall to my knee at his side. He looks at me. His eyes are dimmed, haunted. It's like he doesn't recognise me at all. I struggle with the chain but he winces and scurries back towards the Peacekeeper. The president's cold, high pitched laugh rings in my ears. I lurch to my feet and whirl on the Peacekeeper, drawing up to my full height.

"Get away from him!" I hiss, looking wildly around for anything to use as a weapon. "Get away!"

The Peacekeeper glances at the president who just chuckles and waves his hand lazily. The larger man drops the chain and it clatters loudly as it crashes against the floor. At the other end, the creature scurries away from the noise, burying his head in his dirty arms. I crawl towards him and lay a hand on his overgrown hair. His head jerks up and I hold his gaze. His eyes seem to bulge out of his thin face. Along his jaw is one particularly nasty cut, deep and long and seeping infection.

"Kay…Kaylar?" he grunts, voice ragged with disuse.

I nod slowly, tears in my eyes. He reaches a grimy hand up to touch my cheek as though checking that this was real. He nods and I back off, getting to my feet and turning to my president. He reclines against my bed, arms crossed over his chest as he watches me with the tinge of a smile on his face. I move as close to him as I dare. The Peacekeeper steps in quickly but the President waves him off, smiling more widely now.

"What have you done to him?" I whisper.

"My dear, it would be wiser of you to ask what we haven't done." Snow laughs back, enjoying the shock that crosses my face. "But as I said, we've run out of options. The only thing left to do was kill him and where's the fun in that? No, I've decided he is of more use to you. Do with him what you will, but remember the games begin in three days."

He makes to walk out, signalling for the Peacekeeper to follow. I look down at the snivelling lump on the floor that was once my last hope in the world. I lunge forward and grab the Presidents wrist. He stares down at it in disbelief then meets my eyes with cold certainty.

"That wasn't part of the deal." I hiss.

"Neither was you murdering one of my men in front of the others." he retorts seamlessly.

"I can't…I can't take him with me. Look at him."

"My dear girl," he murmurs, choosing his words carefully. "I'm afraid you have no choice."

****I got even more info about the movie. Eeeeeeep! I now have my own logo, which is now the cover of the first book. And costume ideas. It's so exciting. Thank you 'theREAlmockingjay'! That is all for now. Ciao. ****


	11. Chapter 11

Ceaser asses me over the top of his steepled fingers. He looks so professional, so unattached. I've never been looked at in this way. Not by Ceaser, not by anyone. I choke a little. A low buzz of laughter grows in the crowd. I struggle to find the words I want to say but now is not the time to show weakness, not when I can almost feel the smug grin on Snow's repulsive face.

"Could you please repeat the question?" I gasp.

Ceaser chuckles and glances sidelong at me. He throws his head back against the plush armchair and sighs theatrically making the crowd laugh no longer at me, but with me. I flash Ceaser an appreciative smile. I often feel this way toward Ceaser Flickerman. Many tributes do. The mood in the space alters slightly, I can feel it. Ears prick deftly, desperate to catch every word of the interview. I wonder briefly if these people already know that Kesella is back. I'm wrenched from the murky depths of my thoughts as Ceaser begins to speak:

"I said..." he begins, raising his eyebrows at the expectant, upturned faces."What do you think of your stylist's work this evening?"

I glance down at my neatly manicured hands cupped around my bare knees. The lime green fabric of my flirty cocktail dress sticks to the nervous sweat that coats forearms. There is a slight tremor to my left wrist. I try my best to still it, channeling the nervous energy which threatens to engulf me. The question Kaylar, the question. It's a simple one, an icebreaker as Ceaser tries to ease me in to the interview, as though I've never been in this position before. I glance briefly at his gaudy orange lipstick, and then out at the Capitol people.

"I think..." I begin, voice shaking slightly.

What do I think? I focus my attention on the huge TV screens, posted on the sides of buildings and on thick stone pillars around the city circle. From each one, a perfect reflection of me stares back. I look unsure, unstable. My hands shake more violently, the corners of my mouth turning down. But I won't let this happen, I won't let them win. I am not a little girl any longer. I force an overly bright smile on to my face, clutching my hands together to hide my nerves...

"I think my wonderful stylist Dolor has done a beautiful job. As usual." I say, gesturing gracefully to the overhead balcony where the Capitol dignitaries and stylists are perched.

The crowd's attention diverts quickly to Dolor, who shrugs to his feet awkwardly and gives a funny little bow, a bemused expression on his handsome face. He only remains standing for a few seconds before shrinking back in to his seat. He throws me an irritated glance. I grin back sweetly. He hates attention being drawn to him, one of his most attractive features. A quiet genius, I think to myself.

Ceaser smiles over at me, orange lipstick cracking slightly under the glare of the red hot stage lights. A whisper of genuine applause spreads through the gathered people like wildfire until the noise is deafening and Ceaser is forced to hold up his hand for silence. The old loveable Kaylar Abyss is back, I mutter to myself, and she will get just what she wants.

As the noise finally dies out to silence, Ceaser laughs richly and then turns on his overstuffed chair to face me. His eyes glint in the harsh light. I can just make out flecks of orange glitter on his pouchy cheeks, if I squint hard enough. He looks me over quickly, as though deciding what to do next. Then finally he seems to settle on a question. The audience grows uneasy and I hear the faint rustle of many pairs of feet shuffling ever closer. Their enthusiasm sickens me.

"So Kaylar!" he says jovially, leaning slightly forward. "Shall I begin with saying welcome back?"

The crowd applauds on cue and as I smile I can't help but picture the scene at home. Surely District 4 are tuning in at this precise moment? I know my father won't be among the anxious crowd, gathering in the square but I wonder if Kesella's family might be. My stomach pangs uncomfortably. I don't even know if he was informed of his son's reentry to this year's games, does he know that his life is on the line? Or is he dead too? I feel the strange urge to spit on the stage and then strut off but I know I can't do it. This interview, this crowd, it's an opportunity for exploitation that I simply cannot afford to miss.

"Thank you Ceaser, I'm thrilled to be here!" I say, smiling a sickly smile and soaking in the applause.

"May I suggest 'surprised' might be a better word?" he pauses dramatically and I giggle. "Tell me, how did you take the news of your dear friend Kesella's sudden illness?"

I pause for a moment. The crowd stares expectantly at me - I can feel a million eyes burning my exposed flesh- but all I can think about is how these people can be so stupid. Can they really believe this story? Surely they of all people know that tributes are thrown in to the arena, no matter what their condition. I weigh my option of what to say next but then I decide just to let my heart do the talking, that is after all when I produce my most convincing answers.

"My friend Kesella didn't fall ill." I say, my words running together in my haste to say my piece before I am cut off. I address the audience. "Maybe you didn't want to admit it to yourselves but I know that you all knew the truth. My friend Kesella was arrested shortly after he attacked and killed three peacekeepers in an attempt to help me save my brother on the night of the challenge. The next morning was informed that if I didn't agree to enter the arena in his place, he would be killed."

I stop and glance intently around the city circle. The cameras are still firmly trained on my face and the huge screens still show playback of my speech. Maybe it is shock which is holding the Capitol officials up. Surely I should have be silenced or even killed by now? As I stare in to the crowd I see many alarmed faces ogling back at me, eyes wide and jaws slack. Quickly I get to my feet, feeling the green fabric whisper around my legs as I plant my feet in a firm stance. I breathe in, and then out.

"Only, a few days ago I broke the deal and I killed a man. The president handed Kesella back to me, bruised and battered and hollowed by ever torture known to man. Now we both have to enter the arena, for the second time." I am growing angry now, my words catching in my throat as I load them with care and aim them at the desperate people back home and all over the districts. I stick out my chin and point my face to the president's darkened balcony over the crowds. "But make no mistake; I can speak for both of us when I say we don't intend to die quietly. What are you possibly achieving by having your workers kill innocent children? At least kill us with your own hands, you owe us that Coriolanus."

A shocked hush fills the space right up to the darkness of the listening sky as all heads spin to face to mansion. As expected, the president doesn't answer my summons. I wonder what he is doing, can he hear me? Faintly, I hear the piercing trill of the buzzer as it fills the deafening silence. I turn my back on the crowd, before they can see the first cool tear land on my cheek and stroll back to my seat. Ceaser watches me go in silence; he doesn't announce the end of my interview or call for applause. I could have cut the tension with one perfectly polished fingernail but as I took my chair I knew this was no longer about me.

He still limps pronouncedly. You can see the pain in each of his mannerisms. He steps one foot forward and pulls the other, on its edge behind him. It makes a hypnotic sort of noise, repetitious and irresistible. His hands are still held tightly with a length of filthy cracked chain which jangles against his old silver bracelet, the one I stole from him when I was so sure he was dead. It took many long hours before anyone could convince him to walk on his two legs again. He wouldn't allow me to leave his side, the whole way through his impossible makeover and during his long nights of unimaginable nightmares.

You can still see the scars beneath the makeup if the light hits his face in a particular way but the infection has been cleared and the sores have shrunk dramatically in size. From this distance, the crowd probably can't tell the difference between this Kesella and the one of last year. But I can. It's so evident in those haunting blue-green eyes; there is a darkness there that never existed before. The sparkle has died and even I can't bring it out of him anymore. I have struggled to get more than a few words out of him since he was returned to me. I fear, not for the first time, that this interview could break what is left of him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Kesella Shoal." announces Ceaser with no joy in his voice. He eyes Kesella curiously as he sits painfully in the armchair at his side fidgeting for a moment before deciding to rest his shackles in plain view on his lap. "I must say, I didn't expect to see you here again."

Kesella glances at him sidelong. Ceaser's stare is earnest, he fingers the lace on the cuffs of his flame orange suit, his eyes boring not unkindly in to Kesella's newly repaired face. On the live feed I can see him examine every inch of him, taking in the scars and sore that he can no doubt see from so close. His eyes drink in every pore of the face I used to know and love so well, the face that they all used to recognize. There is a moment of clean quiet, a moment of magic which enthralls every living creature within a thousand miles, a moment of realization of reality. Then the spell is broken as someone buzzes in Ceaser's earpiece; no doubt telling him to commence the interview.

"So, Kesella…" but even Ceaser is at a loss for words when faced with this boy, this ghost from the past. "I…how does it feel to be back?"

It's a stupid question, everyone knows it. Ceaser has the decency to look a little embarrassed as Kesella watches him. He offers no spoken reply however, there is no need for it for his answer is written all over his face. How does it feel? You can see exactly how it feels etched in each scar and pores from every open wound. Ceaser coughs lightly and wipes the gathering sweat from his powdered brow, leaving a prominent stain on his suit sleeve. He tucks it out of sight and listens briefly to something in his ear. Someone while be feeding him advice on how to make Kesella talk, on the best topics to bring him out in to the open are. I have a wretched feeling that I know what is being suggested.

"I have heard that you have spent a lot of time with your fellow tribute Kaylar since your return." he states causing something in Kesella's face to change slightly. He tilts his head slightly and raises it in Ceaser's direction. Wide eyed and suspicious, he nods. "How do you feel about that?"

The cameras pick me out quickly. I keep my face passive, it comes more easily now, I've had a lot of practice. Kesella glances vaguely over his shoulder in my direction. We lock eyes for merely a second but in that time we come to a silent agreement. The old Kesella still burns inside somewhere and whoever suggested using me to provoke him is very good at their job. But I know that look, the way he shifts a little in his chair, chains clanging. My dear old Kesella is about to make an appearance and a bombshell is about to be dropped. I brace myself.

He opens his mouth slowly, as though considering his next words carefully. I hold my breath. I can feel the crowd as the gasp in collectively, leaning forward as one massive body to hear him speak for the first time in a long time, the boy they knew to be dead. He makes a few low croaks in the base of his throat, a result of the lack of use of his voice. When he finally speaks the suspense is unbearable, you can almost see it forming a low cloud over the waiting crowd. He addresses not Ceaser but the people of the Capitol. He rasps 5 earth shattering words that take even me by surprise:

"I'm in love with her."

****Again, I'm sorry. I was on holiday but now I'm back and bang, I have two new, rather long chapters for you. That is my apology gift. Mwah, love you! P.s lots of people have asked if they will be able to see the film. I have no idea, I will need to ask it's makers.****


	12. Chapter 12

In the time I have slept the training centre has become cold and dark. I wake, surprised to have slept at all, shivering and uncertain. There is a fierce pounding in my head, as though my very brain were trying to escape it.

I pull myself out of bed and cross to the low window, staring distractedly at the minuscule cars and people passing below. I wonder half heartedly where they are going but I needn't wonder what or rather who they are talking about. The weight of the darkness in the room is heavy on my fragile shoulders. The clock tells me it is 2am but I'm not sure if I should trust it any longer.

Since Kesella's 'disappearance' it has been difficult to trust anything here. Things are never what they seem to be after all. It's like everything changed the moment I was betrayed. As though suddenly I was smarter, my vision clearer, so clear in fact that I could see through everything I had once believed in.

since then I have suffered many a moment like this one. Moments when I don't know what to do, when it is all too much and I must escape. Only I am trapped like a fish in a net. My only refuge is the little domed garden on the roof but even that place holds too many ghosts.

Even so, I find myself visiting it more and more often as the time passes. Sometimes I might go up there 3 or 4 times a day and just breathe in the cold air and listen to the swirl of the wind, allowing it to clear out my confused brain. As long as I stay outside I can usually ward off the visions and memories of my friend Alix which catch me unawares. But when the night chill sets in or the wind claws too fiercely at my clothes and I am forced inside to where the little worn bench and the pond lie; I can't hide from him any longer. That is when the garden becomes my place to grieve in solitude.

Of course there is no chance I will be overheard. As far as I am aware, the garden is not well known among the tributes and I have never seen another soul up here; except Alix of course. Not even snow can hear my thoughts over the perpetually strong northern wind which makes the silvery wind chimes jingle mysteriously as it blows through.

I suppose I might go there now and turn away from the glittering splendor of the city. Closing my door softly I creep up the corridor, toes sinking soundlessly into the deep carpet. On my way to the elevators I pass Kesella's door. For a second I am tempted to let myself in. I haven't been permitted to see him since the interviews and I'm aching for his company. I press my ear to the wood and listen intently. I hear nothing but his assured shallow breathing, signaling that he is sleeping peacefully. For a fleeting second I press my back to the door, head back and close my eyes, listening to his breath and trying to keep time with my own. Then I turn and walk on.

The landing is pitch dark except the tiny square of bright green light which surrounds the elevator button. I press it in forcefully and step back to wait, tapping my foot impatiently as I begin to grow uncomfortable. I can feel the invisible eyes of my government burning in to my skin. Perhaps they wonder why I visit the rooftop so often. I am surprised they have not yet made it inaccessible to me, I'm sure nothing would give snow greater pleasure.

The elevator arrives with a soft ping. As the doors open the hallway is suddenly flooded with golden light and I have to squint greatly just to see the floor in front of me. By the time my eyes adjust I have placed one barefoot carefully in between the doors to stop them from closing. That's when I see it, the darkness in the light.

Someone else is in the elevator. They haven't noticed me yet and I can see they are hunched over awkwardly. If I listen carefully I can make out labored breathing and wracked sobs over the pressing quiet of the night. The person is crying, I realise in horror.

Suddenly mortified to have witnessed such an intimate thing I utter, "I'll get the next one." and turn to go, not wanting to see the persons face when an all too familiar voice whispers:

"Kaylar?"

I turn back and peer in to the square of light. Sure enough, Ocala stands to his full height in the centre of the space, watching me curiously without a trace of kindness or joy showing on his face. I'm suddenly flooded with  
uncomfortable guilt.

How could I have forgotten about Ocala? All of the stuff with Kesella just pushed him right out of my mind. I know he remembers this, he asked for my help and I withheld it. He allows the doors to close and just stands there watching me, his face expressionless as the square of light gets smaller and smaller until it is finally extinguished and I am left alone in the dark once more.

It feels like hours have passed before the next elevator arrives. I ignore the little ping and shove my way inside, the light burning through my closed eyelids. This time the car is totally empty and all that stares back at me from the mirrored walls is my own bewildered face. I punch in the numbers for floors 12 and 13. On 12 there is no sign of him. The doors close softly and I feel the familiar jerk behind my navel as I am carried to the rooftop.

He is sitting on the little bench inside the dome. I gulp and cross the roof, battling against the forceful wind as it pulls at my clothes and hair. Inside it is eerily calm and warm and the only sounds are those of the haunting chimes and the burbling pond. Ocala sits on the sagging wooden structure, staring absentmindedly in to the water. He doesn't look up when I sit by his side. I wonder if he is too deep in thought even to have noticed me but after a few seconds he rearranges his legs and begins to speak:

"I heard this place was haunted." he whispers.

"By what?" I want to know.

"By you mostly." he answers plainly, turning his head to meet my eyes. "The others say you spend all of your time up here. I wanted to see for myself."

It is quiet for a time. We both stare at the greenish water as it ebbs and flows. I wonder what he is thinking but I know that I will never know the answer. The sudden urge to share everything over takes me but I know I shouldn't force my burden on to the shoulders of another, not one so undeserving as he.

"I'm sorry." I blurt and he looks at me coldly.

"For what?" he sighs, "blowing me off or getting me arrested?"

"They arrested you?" I gasp and he nods solemnly.

"I was cavorting with the enemy you see." he jokes and this time it is my turn to nod.

"Why were you crying?" I mutter after a moment's pause.

He eyes me cautiously for a moment as though deciding whether to trust me. I can't blame him; trust is a valuable thing to throw away. His eyes are rimmed with red and it stands out starkly against those funny pale irises. Up close I can tell he hasn't slept well in a long time, though he puts on a different front in the training gym. There is still a singular tear, cutting its way slowly down his face. I want nothing more than to wipe if away but I keep my hands still in my lap.

He doesn't answer me; instead he whispers "do you love him?"

I'm a little taken aback by the question. I watch Ocala carefully as he runs his hands through his thick dark hair. Hot, ugly tears still lie across his cheekbones. Sitting here with him, it's hard to get my thoughts straight. Do I love him? Does he love me? These thoughts plagued my dreams. Was it all just a show or was there truth in it? I don't think I'll ever know for sure. As my life marches on it's becoming harder and harder to sort reality from lies.

"I don't know." I murmur truthfully, my voice barely higher than the chimes.

He nods and continues to watch the water. I wonder briefly if he will ever meet my eyes again. But now I know and he knows that I face a decision, much like one I made in this very spot one year ago. Alix or Kesella? Kesella or Ocala? Kesella is beautiful and gentle and he means the world to me but from a survival point of view he has nothing to offer me, whereas Ocala...I can't believe I'm thinking this way. Disgusted with myself I get up and the bench groans in relief. I cross to the dome door and let myself out.

The chill night air stings my exposed skin. As I lean over the railing I can see all of the building of the Capitol, spread out like toys below. No building quite reaches the training centre because no event quite matches the hunger games. I feel a little dizzy as I watch the moving lights, insignificant as grains of sand. That's how small and unimportant I am in all of this, I think bitterly.

It's not long before I feel a soft hand on my shoulder. It's smaller than Kesella's, though it's even more worn and I can feel the strength in it. With it comes the comforting heat of Ocala's body, pressed against mine. At first we just watch the city together in silence, his hot breath making my hair dance.

"I really am sorry." I whisper, when the quiet and the pressure of the guilt become too much.

"I know."

"it's just, I thought he was dead and suddenly he was back, you don't know what that's like. I missed him so much and I cried for weeks, you wouldn't understa..."

"my whole family is dead." he cuts me off.

My jaw drops. I spin on my heel and face him, trying desperately to catch his eye. His head hangs low, almost resting on his chest like he is ashamed of his outburst. I'm so shocked that I don't know what to do, what to say to make thugs better. And then comes the guilt, redoubled now. Finally I just blurt the first word that comes to my head.

"How?"

"there was an accident, a mine explosion. I was young I don't really remember."

"Oh."

An awkward sort of silence yawns between us. I want so desperately to end it, to bridge the gap between our two worlds and fix everything but I know I just can't. I'm only one girl and some wounds are too deep. I grip the railing so tightly that my knuckles begin to turn white and my palms pinch sharply. I don't mind the pain though; it helps to clear my head if I just focus on its brilliance. Still no one speaks. The few inches between our bodies feel like miles between our minds.

When I can bear it no longer I turn my back on the lights and fly at him, pulling him roughly in to my arms. He is shorter than Kesella and my head fits perfectly in to the crook of his neck. He stiffens at first but then he begins to relax, tightening his grip across my back and allowing his hot tears to flow without embarrassment. My eyes begin to fill too and finally I allow myself to feel, to accept all of the terrible things that have happened to me over the past few weeks.

We stay this way for a long time, until our cheeks are red and our eyes swollen. But in spite of it all, I feel better. I relax away from him a few inches and close my eyes, feeling the wind play with my hair and enjoying the release of all my pent up emotion. Then he kisses me.

His lips are burning hot as they press against mine but still a shiver runs up the length of my spine, electrifying my muddled mind. For a second I am unsure what to do but eventually I relax and kiss him back, feeling the softness of his lips and loving the way they fit with mine. His hand creeps from my back to my hair and he plays with the soft blonde strands. My body is on fire. I raise myself shakily to tiptoe so that I can reach him and he steadies me with a strong hand. Then the world just disappears.

It only lasts a few minutes. I pull away from him feeling breathless and confused and glad that it's dark so he can see my hideously puffy face. We just watch each other for a time, taking in our faces. I try to gauge what he is feeling but it is impossible, he'll never give anything away. I've never felt so strange in all of my life. Do I love Kesella? I'm not so sure anymore.

Then I hear the footsteps, heavy and agitated and coming our way. I freeze in place. No one else knows about the roof, do they? I turn to see a tall figure striding through the darkness towards us and I think wildly of Alix. The person takes another few steps and then flies at Ocala, smacking him cleanly across the face with a well placed punch. Ocala falls back to the ground in shock, clutching at his jaw. I just stand there looking on, utterly terrified.

The assailant stands for a moment, looking down at Ocala's writhing form and then he spits on the floor, inches from his face. I turn to him in disgust, ready to tell him exactly what I think of him. I'm no little girl, I'm a victor, and I can take care of myself. But the man has started to cross the roof again, back towards the elevator. I try to run after him but my strides are far shorter than his. The elevator arrives and the doors slide open, throwing a bright golden light on the scene. Just as he gets inside I see his face and my hearts stops dead in my chest.

"Kesella." I gasp.

****HIYA. I don't think the gap between updates was too long this time. I'm anticipating a lot of complaints about the kiss thing…but hey, I had my first kiss when I was 13, it's not that weird. Hope you enjoyed. PLEASE REVIEW, it means the world. Peace out****


	13. Chapter 13

****This is just a shorty to fill the gap. I felt bad going straight on to the next morning from that. Enjoy. Review or die.****

"I can't believe you!"

"Kesella wait! I didn't know you were standing there, how could I?" I manage, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

"Well that makes it all better then doesn't it?" he yells.

He stops and rounds on me, pushing forward so that we stand mere inches apart. I can smell his skin, breathe his air. His face is turned down towards me, darkened, scarred and haunted. In his eyes burns a peculiar hatred, a hatred I have seen once before, when he tried to kill me. I try to reach for his wrist but he wrenches it away. It breaks my heart to see him like this but I don't know what to do, what to say to fix things. So I just stand there, mute, watching as he smoulders.

"Kesella…" I begin, after what seems like forever.

"Save it."

"But Kesella, I…" I'm shouting by now, I can't have him walk away from me, I just can't.

"Save it!" he screams.

He shakes his head at me, the disgust clear in his eyes. With that he turns and starts off up the corridor, arms swinging sharply and feet stamping harder than they should. I scamper after him because I don't know what else to do. All I know is that I cannot lose him. With every step my heart falls a little deeper in to my stomach, with every angry breath another tear falls. I just want him to stop, to scoop me up and tell me everything will be ok. But he won't, maybe he never will. I stop.

"Kesella, please!" I beg him and he stops dead, without looking up.

I can hear every heavy breath he breathes. Beneath that I'm sure there is a faint sound of whirring coming from the cogs in his brain as he tries to decide what to do next, I can see the fight on his face. My heart floats; I think I may finally be making progress with him. I take a few tentative steps closer to him, he lifts his head. His sea-foam eyes flicker back and forth, searching my face. I wonder if he still recognises me. Then Auris sticks her head out of her bedroom door.

"What in the world is going on out here?" she demands to know.

Kesella gives me one last, long look then his beautiful eyes turn hard. He addresses Auris stiffly, "She kissed the boy from 12."

I could kill Auris. Daintily, she steps from the room and lays her manicured hands on my shoulders, a stern look in her blue eyes. I try to beg her telepathically not to say anything but she does it anyway. I wonder if it is on purpose, after all I know how she feels about Kesella.

"Again Kaylar? What did I tell you?" she says poisonously.

"This has happened before?" says Kesella incredulously from over her shoulder, his voice growing louder on every word.

I stare at the carpet, subconsciously memorizing the pattern. Kesella shoves Auris gently aside and she huffs her way quietly back in to her room, slamming the door behind her. All I can feel are his eyes, burning in to my skin. I can't see it through my gathering tears, but I can guess how he looks. I can feel myself shaking. He makes to speak but his breath is ragged and short. I meet his eyes. He is crying too. I have no idea what to do.

"Is it true?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

This time I can't bring myself to look at his face. The carpet catches my eyes again. He repeats himself. Could I lie to him? No I can't. Slowly, I nod my head against my chest. Shame wells up inside me hot and acidic; now that I've admitted it to him it feels so much worse. I gasp back a sob. He watches me in disbelief for a second then he lifts his hand and slaps me hard across the cheek. I raise a hand numbly to the place where he struck me. Kesella is staring at his hand, like he can't quite believe what he has done. I push past him quickly and run to my room.

"Kaylar, wait!"

I ignore him and close the door firmly behind me. Once I am safely inside I slide down the wood, tucking my head into my pulled up knees and crying for all I am worth. Kesella reaches my room and bangs on the door, murmuring words I don't hear from time to time but I ignore him and I keep crying. Because it has been such a long time that I have needed this moment. So many things I have suffered, so many times I have held my tongue. I lost my brother, my father, and soon I will lose my life. So I sob and sob until the tears come so hot that they sting on my cheeks.

When I am finally finished I feel better. In the absence of my sobs, the room is eerily quiet. I can hear Kesella sigh through the wood. There is a dragging noise close to my ears as he too slides down the wood to sit with his back against mine. I start at the soft thump as he throws back his head. He doesn't know I'm here but I can almost feel his warmth through the door. This can't be the last time I speak to him, have him close to me. I couldn't possibly face the arena without him, not a second time. All the events of the past few days run together into one loud, colourful blur in my mind. Kesella coming back to me, him telling the nation of his love for me, the kiss, our fight. Does he love me? Do I love him?

"Kes?" I croak turning my head to face the door.

There is a pause then, "Yeah."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know." he whispers. "I am too."

I close my eyes and breathe in the quiet, swiping the remaining tears from my face. I hear Kesella get up. I do the same. My mind is spinning but he is the only thing I am certain about. I think briefly of Ocala and wonder if he is ok. I would guess Kesella hit him harder than he hit me and even his slap rattled my mind. But Ocala isn't important right now. I have Kesella, I still have him and he is all I ever needed. I still don't know why, I don't think I ever will.

"Kay?" he murmurs.

"Yeah?" I whisper back, mouth pressed to the crack between the door and its frame.

"I shouldn't have hit you." he says, "I promised I'd never try to hurt you again. I lied."

"I lied too." I breathe.

Then suddenly it's all too much. I grasp the handle and wrench the door open to reveal a very dejected looking Kesella filling most of the frame. He steps forward and picks me up quickly, kicking the door closed and walking me to my bed. Gently, he lays me down and pulls the quilt right up to my chin. I sigh and close my eyes, feeling a headache coming on from the crying. I feel him lay down on top of the covers by my side. I push myself back in to his arms and together our breathing slows and shortens., argument forgotten.

"It's true you know, I love you." he breathes, as I begin to drift.

"I know." I manage.

"But do you love me?"

And right then, finally, I know the answer.

****Before the complaints start rolling in, there are hundreds of types of love, this doesn't mean they are getting together, just read on and find out. If anyone is worried about little Ocala, I'm pretty sure he is ok!** **


	14. Chapter 14

****I have no excuse. If any of you are still reading, thank you and i'm sorry! Please find it in your hearts to review me. Peace out.** **

My mind is muddled, my senses thick. The sun rises slowly and soon it begins to flood the room in soft golden light. I snort slightly and try to roll over out of its glare but I can't, there is already someone there. My eyes fly open and I jump back in shock but then I see one luminous green eye, squinting in the light. Kesella. I let a long breath whistle through my teeth before I pull myself closer, facing him. I breathe him in. He smells of familiarity, of safety, of citrus and of wood smoke. I allow my eyes to close as his warmth penetrates my body.

"Get up! Up, up...oh!"

Its Auris, I would know that voice anywhere. Begrudgingly I open one eye to see that her standing over us, expression stormy. Evidently her feelings towards Kesella have not changed over the last year. She picks her way carefully to the bed and lays a hand on his strong bronzed shoulder, digging her perfectly painted blue fingernails into his skin until he too wakes.

"Forma is looking for you." she hisses, and then to me, "And Dolor is here."

I sit up to see that she is right, the doorway frames Dolor and my silly prep team. They raise their hands awkwardly before Dolor swats them down, giving each of them a stern look. They shrink under his gaze and scamper off to do something or another. He turns his eyes on me and I feel suddenly, inexplicably embarrassed. I get up quickly and watch as Auris leads Kesella away. Then Dolor and I are alone.

"Dolor." I murmur, keeping my head down.

"Kaylar." he says evenly, stepping over the threshold and closing the door softly behind him with one long fingered hand. "Care to tell me what is going on?"

I swallow loudly. What is going on? I have no idea. I turn away from him dodging the question to buy myself some time and pace over to the window, letting the warm morning air engulf my head and shoulders. The relief lasts only a few seconds before I see his reflection in the pane, looming behind me, searching for answers.

"I..." I begin.

Instead he asks another question: "Do you really think this wise? We both know what he is capable of Kaylar."

His voice is low and soothing, his intentions just but still his words make me angry. Some great creature seethes in the space where my heart should be. I round on him fiercely, pressing an accusative finger to his sternum so that he shuffles backwards in his pointy toed boots.

"None of this is wise, can't you see that? Don't you understand that had he killed me last night, I would have been grateful? If I am to die today, I'd rather it be at his hands than theirs." I say, a little too loudly.

Dolor just nods, his expression as irritatingly placid and unaffected as ever. I could punch him, but I don't. I want to scream, but I won't. Something about his presence causes the anger to ebb out of me, like his mature levelheadedness rubs off on me. Standing there, for the first time, I realise that his neck is on the line too, as much as my own or Kesella's. Each time he acts he throws his hand on a blade. For that I am more grateful than I could ever express. I raise my arms wordlessly and he pulls me in to a strong embrace, chin resting on my shoulder. As I feel the sweet pressure there I find myself marveling at how such a tiny stature could house such a swollen heart.

"I'm sorry, it's just...I'm afraid." I say my breath short and my words muffled by his thick midnight blue hair.

"I'm afraid too." he admits calmly, "But we needn't be. I think death could be an excellence adventure, don't you?"

"Death has never frightened me Dolor," I chuckle softly, "but death at the hands of these people does."

He takes my hand in his and presses it to his ribcage, slightly off to the left hand side. My face contorts slightly in bewilderment as he mimics the movement with his own body, his touch warming my chest.

"Do you feel that?" he asks quietly.

I shake my head at first but I do feel it, his heart beat steady and regular, pumping blood around his petite body, supplying his mind with the thoughts he voices. I close my eyes and nod.

"We're not dead yet." he grins. "And if I am to die today, I'd rather spend my last hours living."

I pull my fingers in slowly, creating a small fist resting on the skin a little below his clavicle. Quickly I nod and catch his clear eyes, pushing away from him a little so that our faces are level.

"You're right." I smile. "We can't have much time, make me beautiful."

"That shouldn't be too hard."

He gets to work, losing his conscious mind entirely as his deft fingers find their home in their tasks. He begins with the treatments usually completed by the prep team, who have yet to reappear. Once I am plucked beyond an inch of my life he steps back to admire his work. He smiles finally as he comes back to himself with a blink of his electric blue eyes and slips a hand into the many folds of his fine cloak. From within he draws a length of sea green ribbon, crisp and new and cut in to four perfect points at the ends.

"A new games, a new ribbon." he murmurs as he ties it neatly around my high ponytail. "There."

I don't thank him; I doubt that I could have voiced my gratitude even if I had tried. For a moment I allow myself to bathe in the gracious glow of this wonderful man, hoping that his presence might make me brilliant too. Then in unison we turn for the door and hand in hand take the elevator to the rooftop for the very last time.

A gleaming blood red hovercraft has settled itself on the Tarmac a little to the left of the dome. It resembles a large insect, squatting there and fixing me hungrily with its many beady eyes. I wonder dully what insects eat and whether or not I resemble it but I don't have the heart to ask. I feel weary and I feel tired, like this is all just a game that I have played too many times before. Instead I murmur flatly: "What an ironic choice of colour."

Dolor chuckles warmly, his impassive expression breaking into a sweet smile which almost splits his face in half. And suddenly I feel better because if Dolor is laughing then nothing can possibly be wrong. With that thought in mind I follow him to the craft and grasp the ladder loosely in my small hands.

Don't hovercrafts usually make a noise when they take off? It's curious, but as we climb higher into the open blue sky I can't hear a thing. It's as though someone has sucked all the sound out of the world and I have only just noticed. I rest my head on Dolor's calf and sigh loudly, inhaling the warm air as it slaps my face.

Inside the craft there is a woman and there is a needle. One speaks to me in hushed tones and the other pinches my skin. I don't register which is which. The ground vibrates gently beneath my feet as I am led to an empty room to wait. The silence reminds me of a mausoleum. On that particularly unpleasant thought, I close my eyes, feeling as though I am standing on a razor's edge, looking up and down.

I can't judge how much time has passed when the door slides open. My back aches dully which gives me a clue but I wish it were more accurate. A short woman with mousy brown hair pulled back to her skull takes the seat opposite me. She has the forlorn, gaunt look of someone who has lost a great deal of weight in a short amount of time. I have trouble recognizing her at first but her voice soon remedies that.

"He wants me replaced, says my ideas are tired and boring. Tired and boring!"

"Ariana?" I murmur in disbelief.

She nods distractedly, eyes burning with an irate kind of fire. Her cheeks which used to be so plump are now hollow and ashen. I search her face for some sign of her former, empowered self but come up empty handed. She seems somewhat addled, hands twitching of their own accord, eyes flashing. I notice that her legs shake beneath her, it makes me very uncomfortable.

"Ariana. What are you talking about, who wants you replaced?" I say slowly.

"Snow." her eyes widen as they hold mine with unforgiving sincerity. "He's going to kill you, he's going to kill us both."

"How reassuring." I spit, suddenly irritated by her total loss of control. "Is there a reason you have come here Miss Specter?"

She narrows her eyes slowly, tilting her head as though she is assessing me. It's funny since she is the one in need of assessing. I squint back at her, watching as he lips curl back to show her yellowing teeth. If she doesn't start foaming at the mouth, I will be surprised.

"I came to show him, yes. I am going to warn you Kaylar." her head twitches sideways against her shoulder.

"Warn me?" I repeat, sitting straighter as raw curiosity begins to flood my veins, ensnaring my pounding heart so that I am helpless to resist.

"You mustn't trust anybody Kaylar. He wants to kill you and so will they, so will they..." she tails off and glares at the wall above my left shoulder before shaking her head sharply and refocusing her eyes. "Everyone else had two injections today, remember that."

Then she gets awkwardly to her feet and shuffles to the door, sliding it open and leaving it that way because her hands shake too badly to grip the handle.

The room feels incredibly large in her absence. There are no windows so I will not know when we are approaching the arena- usually the windows black out around the craft so that the tributes can't see the arena's top secret location. The floor beneath my feet still buzzes with energy however as the air presses against the metal. We must still be airborne.

I take to pacing while I wait, pacing and thinking. Ariana has warned me in the past, about Kesella, about the maze. Should I trust her this time? Every sinew of my body screams no, Kesella isn't out to kill me, we got over that. But still there is a traitorous voice in the back of my mind which reminds me that Ariana was right before and that she is right about Snow wanting nothing more than my head on a pike. I shake my head to clear away some of my thoughts. There are far too many crammed inside, my skull will surely explode.

The battle of head against heart plays out so fiercely within me that I fail to notice the sudden quiet of the engines. What is the significance of my receiving only one injection where the others received two? I resolve to ask Kesella about it once we are clear of the Cornucopia. The faint bump as we touchdown takes me by surprise, jarring my legs and throwing me off to one side. Peacekeepers materialize at the door and before I know it Dolor is by my side and the ladder is unfurling before us.

The catacombs seem darker and quieter than I remembered. The close dank environment immediately sets me on edge. The sharp, sweet smell of earth and decay fills my nostrils, making me cringe and start breathing through my mouth instead. Dolor's hand is warm and familiar in my own; I try to pretend it is the only thing that exists.

There isn't much for us to do but wait. We sit side by side in the close quiet. I try to avoid looking at the metal circle which will lift me into the arena but I can't; it draws my eyes like a dead body. I squeeze Dolor's hand a little more tightly and consider telling him about what Ariana said on the hovercraft. But I can't, we are too well surveilled here. So we sit in silence and we wait.

Finally the announcement plays to tell us I only have five minutes left before launch. Hands still firmly linked, Dolor and I cross the room to the plate. He folds me into his arms quickly and I breathe in his scent and say a silent goodbye. Then we separate and I step on to the metal and look up as the clear tube begins its descent to trap me. I feel suffocated and compressed but I try my best to smile at Dolor as he raises a hand in farewell. It seems like a foreign gesture, too simple and ordinary when this could be the last time either of us says goodbye to anyone. I raise my hand back and hold his eyes as the floor slowly falls away and I am cocooned in darkness once again. Let the 64th annual Hunger Games begin.


	15. Chapter 15

I keep my eyes firmly closed as the the rising feeling in my stomach eases to in to nonexistance. I expect the breathe in the air, blink in the light. Only there is no light and the air smells just as it did in the catacombs moments before. My eyebrows pull in, knitting together as I frown, curiously squinting at my surroundings for the first time. As ever, my fellow tributes and I are arched loosely around the gleaming golden Cornucopia. On the plate to my immediate left stands Ocala. He doesn't look at all dazed by our arrival, his eyes are fixed on me with such intensity that the hairs on the base of my neck stand to attention. I spy Kesella three plates left of Ocala, he too fixes me with his glittering eyes. Suddenly I am reminded of last year, when I faced the same choice between two allies. I chose to leave Kesella and ran with Alix but this year I'm not sure if I should ally with anyone. Arianas words play on loop in my head. They will all want to kill me.

In order to steady myself, I focus not on my friends but on the arena itself. We stand in a field of birlliant green grass which is so long it grazes my knees. The field is no more than 10 metres wide. This stumps me, do they want us all to die today in this tiny space? Above us the sun burns brightly but the light doesn't reach us, we are blanketed by a colossal shadow. Slowly, I spin on my heel- and some of the other tributes follow my lead- to face the enormous structure behind us. My jaw goes slack.

Towering over us is some sort of momumental mountain, organic and dark brown in colour. Made not of rock but of something unidentifiable, fluid and rough. It looks as though someone has sliced it in half, it is totally open on this side and it reveals several small, square rooms on the upper levels, some empty, some full of other curious configurations. Inside it is brightly lit and the bottom floor consists of one enormous gaping hangar, full of doors and stairways and shafts and arches, leading to god knows where.

For the first time in weeks a feel a flood of relief. Caves are something of a speciality of mine. My eyes seek out Kesella, he too wears a satisfied smile. Now, seeing what I face I know that I must follow Ariana's advice. This is my territory, I don't need anybody's help. I try not to see either Ocala or Kesella, thought I feel the pressure of their eyes on my skin.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0! The sound of the gong resonates in my ears as my legs begin to work. I leap from the platform, arms pumping and legs pounding the soft earth. The grass tickles my limbs and black figures flash past on all sides but I block them out and I keep running. By the time I reach the horn my legs are numb but that is ok. I'm first to the supplies because I am small and light and I can run faster than the bulky careers. I snap up a heavy black backpack, a set of knifes and a small handheld gun. I don't know what it does because the cornucopia never contains automatic weapons but I shove it into my waist band anyway and set off for the caves.

I am halfway back to the launch pads when someone's leg hooks around my own and I fall hard in the dirt. I drop my supplies and roll on my back to catch a glimpse of the boy from one towering over me. He is much larger and stronger than I am and if I get up he will hit me hard but if I stay down he will kick me and that will be worse. I scramble to my feet. He has no visible weapons and I have no time to draw one. So it's fists or death. I square my shoulders, it's not a choice.

Simultaneously we leap in to action, like two identical loaded springs. We fly at each-other, grasping one another roughly and the breaking apart, panting and spitting. I feign a punch to the jaw then turn back on myself at the last second, putting my full weight behind a kick to the ribs. He spots the move a mile off and blocks deftly, grabbing my ankle in the his left hand and pushing back on it so that my hip clicks awkwardly in it's socket. I stumble a few steps backwards.

The fire is in my heart. He is the prey and I am the hunter. Only a few inches remain between our bodies, I slink over to him like a lioness, coiling my muscles, ready to pounce. He drives a fist hard in to my unprotected stomach, a desperate man's move. I grab it in place, pulling it out and laughing loudly, winded but by no means done. I jerk his arm down wards and force it up into his shoulder, pulling back and flipping him up with a flex of my bicep. In the seconds that he is airborne I see the hatred in his eyes, then comes a painful crunch and I know he has been reunited with the ground, hard. I stoop and sling the backpack across my shoulders. Air wheezes from the boy's crushed lungs. I blow him a sarcastic kiss for good measure then turn and start spiriting again, feeling the ache in my muscles.

As I go I draw one the knives for good measure. I clench the blade between my teeth so that I can still use my arms to help me run. The metallic taste is reassuring and familiar, it spurs me onwards.

The safety of the mountain is but five paces away when the next person grabs me by the wrist. I whirl on them, determined to make them regret it. Nothing could pierce my veil of animalistic rage but those unmistakeable blue-green eyes. Kesella carries a back pack but he hasn't managed to lay hand to any weapons.

"Kaylar! Wait!" he says, out of breath.

I frown at him sadly, unable to bring myself to speak. I can't tell him I'm going it alone, I just can't do it. His face is so certain, jaw set and eyes glowing. Instead I draw a second knife, a large serrated one and press it in to his hand. Then I turn away, leaving him standing, stunned in the midst of the raging battle for supplies. Fortunately someone engages him in battle before he can try to persue me.

Once inside the air becomes cold and the sunlight is extinguished entirely, replaced by the same blueish artificial light which lit the training gym. So many things could be concealed within these many dingy rooms. This battles will be fought more against the arena than against the other tributes. It makes sense because that way, the Capitol can guarantee my death.

For a second a marvel at the many people, weighed down by supplies, scurrying this way and that around the cavernous space. Zso that they look like a pack of ants. As I watch an arrow sprouts from a girl's neck and she falls from one of the staircases, dead. I have to keep moving.

I select a door at random. It is close to the entrance and no other tributes appear to have used it. As I race over there I hear the heavy footfalls of a pursuer and I absently point the little gun over my shoulder, firing blindly. The gun has a serious kick on it and I stumble before wrenching the heavy door open. Just before I exit I glance over y shoulder to see the girl who was pursuing me standing statue still, eyes still blinking in her frozen body. It only lasts for a few minutes but by the time she starts moving again she chooses wisely not to follow me. I slip through the door and let it swing shut at my back, then I am running again.

It is fairly dark outside of the main space and I find myself stumbling across the uneven ground. I pass through hundreds of corridors and rooms, each one stranger than the last. One room is full of stalagmites so tall that their conical peaks graze the ceiling. I am forced to pick my way around them like they are pieces on a chess board. Once I think i glimpse a figure in a jacket black like my own but other than that I see no other tributes.

I can't but wonder how we will find each other in this labyrinth and how in turn the Capitol will find us. This thought plays on my mind as I come to a low ceilinged room, cut in half by a slow moving river. It is warm in here and the sound of the water tripping over the rocks is friendly and calming. Deciding I have run far enough I stop and sit on the ground, concealed by a large boulder. Here I breathe for the first time since entering the arena.

Once my heart has slowed sufficiently I turn to my accumulated supplies. From the back pack I draw two spearheads, an empty water bottle, a pot of what I recognise to be iodine, another knife and an assortment of dried foods. I count my knifes: 5 of varying sizes and weights. Then there is the little gun which paralyser people. All in all i think I have the supplies of a career. I am lucky, many tributes will die of thrust in the next few days. I get up and cautiously make my way to the river, filling my bottle and adding the iodine before setting it aside to purify. With that done I settle into the hard wall and force down a few pieces of dried fruit before I drift off to sleep.

without the changing light to rouse me i sleep for longer than i care to admit. i dont know how much time has passed as i open my eyes in the perpetually dim cavern, all i know is that i can hear voices, resonating from the damp walls, and they are coming this way. Silently i chastise myself for falling asleep in such a vulnerable position. i was so distracted by fear and exhaustion, i didnt even consider that other tributes might come to this place in search of water. making as little noise as possible, i push myself far in to the corner behind the large brown rock, dragging my supplies with me and i listen.

"it's too cramped in here and it's hot! i don't like it Precious." moans a low obviously male voice.

"oh shut up!"snaps who i take to be Precious. "there is water here and along with our food and weapons, that's all i need."

"Don't forget your devilish charm and gentle temperment." says a third voice sarcastically. the sound of a hard slap rings in the dense air. "Now, now Precious, don't lose it now, we never know who could be skulking around here."

"Karo i swear if you don't hold your tongue i will run you through." warns Precious, sitting down heavily on the ground.

i hear the sound of the others joining her. within my sluggish body a breif battle rages before curiosity wins out over self preservation. i lean down on to my hands and knees and and crawl forwards to the very edge of the craggy boulder which conceals me so well. breath held, i edge my hand around the rough surface sothat it crumbles in to my palm and poke my head out just enough for my eyes to peer in to the gloom. the tributes sit cross legged in a loose circle on the banks of the little river. my blood turns to acid in my veins as the bitter taste of dread begins to rear it's ugly head in the back of my dry throat. Careers.

suddenly i come back to myself and realise that the boy they called Karo is facing my way. I push myself back roughly, grazing my hands uncomfortably and sending my supplies sprawling. i freeze. the blood pounds in my ears and my eyesight sharpens at once. the buzz of the careers' chatter dies out immediately to be replaced by the tumultuous clanging of metal against rock. i imagine how the scene must look, all heads turning slowly my way. i wonder whether or not their heightened sense of superiority even allows them to feel threatened by the sudden noise. i doubt it. theres nothing to do but count the seconds as they close in on me. 1...my heart beats so hard i can see it through my shirt. 2...their footsteps are well practised and light so that i cant judge their position. 3...i wonder if the cameras are trained on my sweating face right now, im sure they are.

just then a cleanly shaven, angular face looms around the rock. a hiss of breath escapes through my gritted teeth and i push myself back in to the wall like a trapped rat, so hard that my protruding vertabrae strain and ache. im sure i will find bruises there tomorrow, if i live that long. the first thing i register is the shimemring knife strung at his belt, the second is the cruel smile playing across his full lips. it reminds me of snow which makes me nauseous. quickly i scramble to my feet, clinging to what little dignity i have left, so that the boy doesn't tower over me quite so much. He turns triumphantly to his friends and calls something which i don't hear over the sound of my own heart. they materialise instantaniously wearing smiles almost as haunting as his own. in that moment i know i am dead.


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm terribly sorry for the lack of capital letters/punctuation/corect spelling in these next few chapters**

There is a thread hanging from the black cloth. I imagine it to be the long, fluid tail of the dark creature which has stolen my vision. It's sways in the breeze stirred by the moving water. It tickles my nose. I am desperate to swat it away but my hands are tied tightly at my back, knuckles resting on the rough floor. All the while the careers circle me. I can feel them all around like some terrifying omnipresent force. When one passes behind me the hairs on my neck prickle and stand up. When one passes in front I draw my feet in nervously. I try to keep the small part of my face which remains exposed unreadable but my insides are writhing. I know they must recognise me but I doubt that will get me any special treatment here, I'm the most powerful enemy they have to get rid of. _He wants to kill you...they all will too. _

I'm not their only prisoner. I learned this in the seconds before they applied the blind fold, when I still saw light and breathed air. The other girl looks around Ocala's age, much like I assume the careers are. She is petite and blonde like me and though I have put in a little weight since winning the games, she is rounder. I imagine she comes from a slightly better off district, 3 perhaps. I would like to ask her, If I didn't feel quite so nauseous. In the darkness of the blindfold I can't tell where she is but I think she sits just to my left. Crazily, I wish I could reach out to her, but that wouldn't be sensible, even if we weren't about to die. The thing I want the most though is to know her name and for her to know mine, I can't tell you why, it just seems so important that we know each other at least that well when our blood laces the river together.

"I know that one." mutters one of the boys thoughtfully, Karo or otherwise.

"Don't be stupid Revere, we all know her, that's the victor from 4!" snaps Precious, "You idiots are so hard to work with sometimes!"

With that she storms off, I hear her standard issue army fatigue boots hit the soft bank with a flump as she leaps lightly across the river and stalks off somewhere in a rage. I hate her already, though in some ways her behaviour reminds me of Auris. Though Auris may be jealous of my relationship with Kesella, she would never tie me up like this, like I am some animal. The thought makes me fume. I am a victor, I have survived this all before. I stood up to the president who wanted to kill me, I kissed a boy, they should be afraid of me, not amused. My anger grows in size like a huge dark storm is swelling inside of me. If someone rubs me the wrong way, i might just explode. These thoughts entrap me for so long that I hardly notice when the remaining careers stop circling and slowly begin to close in on us.

"It's not that," Revere mumbles to himself. "No, it's something else, I'm sure of it."

"How could you?" mumbles Karo with apparent disinterest, "You just remember her face from TV that's all."

"No...it's something else." insists Revere and he sounds so lost that I open my mouth to put him out of his misery.

"Just after the gong, I was running away from the Cornucopia, you tripped me and tried to take my things so I beat you up. I left you on the ground for someone else to kill, i guess I should have just done it myself."

There is a long silence, the kind that fills you up so that you wonder if it really the room that is silent or if you have simply gone deaf. I can tell both boys are taken aback that I dared or was even able to speak to them, especially in such a precocious way, afterall I am the prisoner here. One of them crouches before me, I feel his breath on my face, it's warm and it causes the thread to dance and tickle me even more insistently. I almost ask him to move when he reaches out a soft, unscarred hand. I recoil slightly, expecting painful repercussions for my outburst but he simply rips off the blindfold, leaving me to blink dazedly in the overly bright cavern.

"Hey, she's right," he says in amazement, stepping back a few paces as though to get a better look at me.

"Wait, she beat you up?" snorts Karo, "You really are losing your touch Revere!"

There is an animalistic grunt followed by a long whooshing sound as Revere puts all of his weight behind a punch to Karos relaxed abdomen. He folds in half, wheezing and coughing. When he finally straightens his face his turned a particularly violent shade of puce and the cavern rings with the echo of his desperate coughs and splutters.

"I don't think I am Karo." hisses Revere.

The two stand inches apart, chests pressed together. I can feel the tension radiating from their stiff bodies like waves in a raging sea. I can smell a fight brewing and I don't like it. I know how passionate boys get when they are angry and there are weapons in this room, either one of us prisoners could be caught in the crossfire. I look around desperately, hoping to see Precious striding over to take control once more. But she doesn't come, leaving me to struggle to think of a distraction. What do boys hate most? After a few tense moments I decide to try undermining them.

"Are you two finished," I whine, "I'm getting bored of this, kill each other already, or kill me because I'm tempted to do it for you."

I yawn to add effect, so widely that tears come to my eyes andy jaw clicks painfully. Both boys round on me with disbelief in their flashing eyes, animosity momentarily forgotten in the face of this common enemy. As I fix them with a dull stare I can see the anger and the tension ebbing away. Their muscles relax, both in their bodies and in their faces. They asses me in unison then turn to eachother, whispering furiously with their heads down so that I can't make out a word, no matter how hard I strain. After a few moments of this they nod at one another and Revere calls out to Precious. I stiffen, they are deciding my fate. I strain to hear but its useless, my heart beats too fiercley and my blood beats against my eyeballs. i try to breath calmly but its no use, instead i close my eyes tightly and try to imagine being somewhere altogether more pleasant.

"We could really use someone like you." says Revere slowly, causing Karo to roll his eyes in irritation and glare over at his ally. Revere catches him self quickly, "i mean...you're not as weak as you look kid."

Karo shakes his head and elbows Revere out of the way crounching to press his face close to mine, "What he means is that you might be alble to help us. you escaped this thing once, noone is quite sure how but you did it, and you got someone else out with you. i'm sure you can do it again."

"I...I don't think so..." i stammer taken aback by this strange turn of events.

"Then we kill you." he says simply, "your choice."

i try frantically to think of something to say which might get me out of this situation but im so surprised by their decision that i cant get my thoughts straight. i had expected them to kill first and ask questions later, the prospect of an alliance had never even crossed my mind. i can't be a career, i just cant. but then i think back to previous victors from the districts who win much less frequenty, tributes who used their strong appearances to manipulate the trust of the careers. i have no doubt in my mind that they deserve to be used, i only wonder if i could possibly keep up such a charade, i've never been much of an actress. and then i think of kesella, for no apparent reason his glowing face swims infront of my vision. then i think of Dolor and my father and even unpredictable old Auris. and i know that if i ever want to see any of their faces again, i have no option. i grit my teeth, close and open my eyes and then slowly raise my hand. Karo grins triumphantly and glances over his shoulder at Revere who looks sullen. they grasp my hand in turn and as they do i try to think of my conditions. unfortunately, they beat me to it.

"Not everyone can be a career." says Revere quickly as he extends his own spear to me, desperate to reclaim some authority. He glances coldly at Karo then back to me as i sturggle to keep from overbalancing beneath the overly long weapon. "Kill her."

it takes me a moment to catch on. his eyes are so cold and so dark, it feels as though they are swallowing me whole. somehow i know exactly who he is referring to. slowly i turn my head to face the girl. Her blindfold is even more crude than my own. I can see her jaw is set but a vein jumps near her ear, betraying her innner turmoil. i can't kill her, i just can't do it. i take her in entirely, thinking of all the people who know her better than i. surely, if someone had the right to take her life they should at least know what to write on the grave stone above her frozen body. i turn back to the careers, eyes wide in bewilderment. at first Karo seems just as shocked as i but i can see his frosty face gradually warming to the idea. He smiles grimly and i know i can't take it anymore, the pressure will surely kill me.

"What?" I splutter loudly, forgetting myself momentarily in my horror.

"I said kill her."

I stare at the girl whose shivers punctuate each word. The weight of the spear in my hands suddenly feels dirty and wrong and I drop it like it were a poisonous spider so that it hits the ground with a deafening clang and rolls off gently towards the river. Kari sighs as if in annoyance and blunders off after it. Still Precious does not appear. This unsettles me, would she really let her blood thirsty band of careers make such a monumental decision without her? I cast around in an attempt to see a glimpse of her slick brown hair but I don't get to look for long before Revere thrusts his bulky body in to my line of vision. A look of a strange emotion somewhere between anger and apprehension crosses his face.

"What is it?" he demands, "What are you looking for?"

He pulls me roughly to my feet and slashes the ties which bind my wrists, making me flinch as the metal whispers against my skin. I can feel the colour draining from my face as he pulls my small body against his solid one. For a moment I am confused and then, out of the corner of my vision I see a glimmer of silver light as he slowly raises his knife to my throat.

"It had better not be pretty boy." he snarls, pressing harder so that the blade bites into my jaw. "Or you will both pay for it."

I try to shake my head but it is no use, there's nothing I can do without slitting my own throat. Revere's eyes are alight and blazing with a look that I know only too well as he stares around the cavern, searching for my nonexistent ally. My knees begin to shake as I force myself to open my mouth. My throat is dry and it does nothing but grind and gurgle when I try to form words. My eyes are watering and I am trembling violently but I know I must act or I will lose my life this way, at the hands of another maddened child. And even though it pains me to know how willing he is, I won't let him become a murderer for me.

"I'm alone." I rasp and he loosens his grip, staring resentfully down at me. "I swear, I swear on Kesella's life."

With that he releases me so suddenly that I collapse shivering and numb to the rough floor. He stands over me, running his fingers absentmindedly up and down the razor sharp edge of the blade. His eyes are fixed on me but they are no longer stormy or alarmed. On the contrary he looks at me with a diluted sort of awe, tinged slightly with surprise. I realise that this boy may be even harder to read than I initially thought. He looks lost for a moment, as though pondering his next words.

"Those are...dangerous words." he says slowly as though struggling to find the right adjective.

I stare up at him, attempting defiance but achieving only terror. For a few moments we just watch eachother in this quiet estimating way, then mutely he offers me a huge hand and pulls me roughly to my feet. I shrink under his gaze, afraid of what will come next until a sudden noise startles us both and we whirl around to see Karo hauling the spear back over to it's owner. Revere turns back to me with a sense of new urgency.

"Welcome to the Careers." he says quickly, shaking my hand before winking almost imperceptibly and shoving me hard back to the ground.

"What's going on?" says Karo sharply, laying the spear to rest against a small protrusion to stop it from rolling off again. "What's happened?"

He looks wildly between myself and Revere and I do my best to look fragile and afraid. To my surprise Revere turns to his ally, lays a hand on his shoulder and mutters: "Looks like we've got ourselves a new ally." before stalking off.

Karo and I stare at eachother in bewilderment for a few seconds. He is tall and bulky, as the careers so often are, but there is something behind his curiously clear eyes which isn't present behind Revere's. It's a kind of shadow, dark and ever present and it makes me shiver. I question wether or not he is entirely human. My breath quickens. The intensity of his stare scotches my skin. And then it passes and he blinks rapidly, as though shaking off some demon. He turns his broad back to me and marches off after Revere. After a second's pause I turn to follow them, leaving the distant blonde girl to die at the hands of the games rather than me own. i know it is selfish of me but still i scamper after the others.

And then the cannon fires.


	17. Chapter 17

Blinking rapidly i force myself in to press up position, then back to my feet. The cavern feels as though it is rocking from side to side, the sound of the shot still ringing vehmently in the close, damp air. My heart hasn't stirred in at least a minute, no breath has passed my dry lips. I run my tongue across the bottom one nervously as i always do in situations such as this. Absentmindedly i knead my jaw where it smacked against the ground when i dropped there in shock. Everything seems to happen in slow motion as i watch the scene unfold around me; like everyone else is underwater and i am somewhere altogether removed. It is a curious sensation, to understand what the Gamemakers see even for a fleeting second. I watch blankly as Karo run towards me, arms pumping a little too slowly, legs raised for a fraction too long. Then he makes contact, crushing the air from my lungs with a long whoosing sound as he pins me to the ground and suddenly the world falls back in to it's regular rythmn; my senses sharpen. I snatch an enormous breath as his full weight comes down on me. My eyes widen so far, i fear they may burst out of my head, the pressure inside my skull is almost unbearable. I could pass out but the cruel fire in Karo's eyes anchors me harshly to reality.

"You set us up!" he growls, spit spraying my face, hands pressing my wrists so hard against the ground that i fear they might snap at any minute. "You set us up, you and your pretty little friend. I'll kill you for this, i'll rip out your throat!"

"N-no!" i manage, gritting my teeth as blackness begins to claw at the edges of my vision.

"Liar!" he is screaming now, so loudly that my eardrums throb and ache. "Precious? Precious? I'll break every bone in your body girl, what did you do to her?"

"Nothing...i swear, i swear!" i'm crying now, i can't hold it in. "Please! i didn't know, i didn't..."

He makes a sort of animalistic grunt, sitting back hard on his heels and crushing my hips so hard that i let out an inaudible whimper. My hands are suddenly free but they are too stiff and sore to do anything of much use. i try to peer at them out of the corners of my eyes but the sight makes me feel sick; they are bent awkwardly against the floor at an incredibly unnatural angle. i swallow the huge lump in my throat, i have to defend myself some way. But as i bring my wide eyes back up to Karo's flashing face my voice dies in my throat. A strangled sort of noise escapes me as i take in the huge fist, raised high above the boy's head. Quickly i squeeze my eyes tightly shut. The power of the blow will surely break my jaw. All i can do is pray that i will pass out from the pain and i tense every muscle in my small body and anticipate the blow as best i can.

But it never lands. Slowly i open one eye, then the other, still not releasing the tension in a single sinew. He remains in position, poised to strike but the light behind his eyes has died. As i watch he stiffens and slowly slumps forward so that his body totally shuts out the light. I gasp a shocked breath, recoiling slightly as something warm trickles across my forearm. I stay this way for a few moments, breathing in his skin and struggling to keep my dried fruit down. Then, finally, the reality of the situation hits me and i grit my teeth, reluctantly flex my injured hands and thurst his body from mine. Air floods my lungs as they are finally able to inflate fully. Ignoring the dizziness which fogs my brain i push myself to my feet and stare down at the body of the career. He twitches a few times then suddenly the sound of cannon fire fills the cavern and i grab my ears instinctively.

The whole situation seems so disconnected and insane. I spin on my heel slowly to see Revere still poised, left hand in the air, knees bent in a stance which i recognise from hours in the training gym. He stares up at his own hand as though he can't believe what he has just done, but what has he just done? Slowly the horrific pieces begin to knit together in my mind; i wish they wouldn't. As though on autopilot, my legs carry me quickly to Karo's side. He lies on one side, the long tail of a bronze spear keeping his body from falling in either direciton. I see with sickening certainty that the spear passed straight through between his vertabrae and found light once more on the other side. It passed so quickly, the spear head is blood free. I choke a few times but then i have to vomit and i allow myself to do so, turning away from the glassy eyes of my breif ally, Karo.

"Kid!" screams a voice from the other side of the cavern. I look up and my heart swells with both relief and repulsion as i see Revere racing towards me, slipping and tripping on the uneven ground. "Run!"

I just stare at him, rubbing my forearms so hard that it hurts, desperate to purge them of the boy's blood. He looks at me insistantly, madly even and gesticulates wildly for me to get out of here but it's no use, my feet seem to be weighted down. My head is spinning, i should be dead, once again, i should have died but someone else died in my place. My heart feels like it may explode. Why did he save me? Why does someone always have to save me? I barely have time to blink before Revere is rushing past in a flurry of wind and black cloth. As he passes he grabs me roughly by the elbow and i have no choice but to turn on my heel and follow him from the cavern.

We run for what seems like hours. At first my legs feel numb and clumsy and Revere practically has to hold me up but after we have passed through a few high ceilinged rooms i come to my senses. It feels good to run away, to pant and to have my face clawed at by the updraft. I want to scream but there isn't time. My heart beats fiercely, i am alive. I don't even glance at Revere. Our arms swing as one solid mass, our steps in time as we dodge the obstacles which fall in our way in perfect tandum. We are like twins, robots even as we race farther and farther away from the scene. The only sound is the slapping of our feet which is almost swallowed by the whizz of the wind in my ears. Finally, i feel free, like i could keep on running forever. But deep inside i know i can't. This is something i can't escape because it will haunt me for the rest of my life: however sort that may be. But at least for now i can run and i can forget, and maybe that is enough.

I seem to have fallen in to my old habits again, since returning to the arena. Perhaps the most dangerous of all; falling asleep and forgetting everything. I suppose that i have my youth to blame for this particular behaviour. I open my eyes in a cavernous space filled with rock formations and a strange, repetitive dripping sound. Shafts of golden sunlight fall across the dusty floor by my head, warming my skin evenly. I stretch out luxuriously as i always do when i wake, i can't remember a single detail about last night or how i got here but i have grown used to this momentary confusion when i wake. Then i spy the body and my blood turns cold. Instantly i am on my feet, fumbling with the straps on the worn black rucksack and shakily adjusting a wickedly curved knife blade so that it sits comfortably with the shape of my right hand.

"Who are you?" i demand, nudging the sleeping boy with the toe of my combat boot. He grunts, rolls over, spots the knife and freezes. "I said who are you?"

"My name is Revere Lacertra," he says slowly, as though confused. "I just saved your life."

I stare at him for a second and he stares back. Then i blink rapidly as my memory of the previous night comes back somewhat reluctantly. The images begin to fill my mind but i quickly push them away, i can't bear to see the spear sparkle in the dim light or to feel the boy's blood cutting it's path across my forearms. And i know he is telling the truth. I lower my eyes feeling awkward in his presence; now i owe him, big time.

"Oh-i..." i stammer weakly grasping for something to say, "Good shot."

Then all at once i am horribly aware of a sickening pain, resonating through every inch of my body in nauseating waves. The i drop the knife without realising it and fall loudly to my knees, eyes wide as i try and fail to raise my hands before my face. It's no use, my wrist flop strangely outwards at awkward angles, like all of my bones have simply melted away. I wretch involuntarily as i stare down at them, the feeling beginning to cloud my brain. Revere just stares on in amazement, i can feel his eyes burning in to my flesh, but i can't bring myself to look away from my twisted bones. The room begins to spin, and i slump to my knees. Instantly Revere is on his feet, digging in one of the back packs for something. I don't care what, not really, my eyes swim with panic, i can't lose the use of my hands, not on the second day. And that's when i realise it, Snow has won, i'm dead. I gasp a sharp breath as Revere stumbles over and begins to swathe my thobbing hands. I could yelp in pain but it's no use, i can't push him away. I wonder fleetingly what the Capitol is thinking right now but i don't have to ponder it for long.

The blaring gratingly familiar sound of trumpets fills the air. I leap to my feet at the same time as Revere, discarding the bandages with distaste. We stand alert and ready to act. Suddenly the noise is gone and the silence yawns, thick with tension. I eye Revere, he stares on at me. I'm the expert, i'm the Victor, i remind myself hastily. The pain in my hands has disappeared but i barely register this fact as the sun beats with warm irony on my tense face. Then, at last, there comes a burst of ear-splitting static which makes us both jump.

"Tributes!" the airy voice of Albert Rutiger fills the room, bouncing off the uneven walls. "We would like to congratulate you, you appear to be the most talented group we have had yet. The first day's death toll is at the lowest it has been in recorded history. So well done, an excellent show of survival skills. However, in the interest of well...interest, we are going to speed things up a bit. Each of you are about to receive a small cannister with a scrap of paper inside, on the paper you must write your name and your district, then i suggest you move on to a new place. Hide your cannister carefully, but beware you will be eliminated if you try to conceal it about your person. Your task is to round up all of the cannisters using whatever means necessary. Whoever assembles all of the cannsiters first may choose a district number, and we will remove the chosen tributes. Happy Hunger Games, you have 48 hours."

His words seem to hang in the air like a cloud of some kind of hypnotic smoke and it takes a few minutes for me to realise he has stopped speaking, the announcement is over. The trumpets die out once more. I stare at the opposite wall. Revere looks at me urgently but i can't allow him to be dragged in to this. I have to find those cannisters because i know, and the Capitol knows, which district the winner will choose. It all makes perfect sense and though the format surprises me, the situation does not. I had expected them to simply blow me up or set a pack of mutts upon me but no, this is much more subtle, for this they must take no blame.

"Oh Snow," i mutter, "You've really out done yourself this time."

I sit down hard and grab the little knurled silver cylinder which lands promptly between my combat-clad knees. Inside, as promised is a small scrap of white paper bearing a miniature Capitol Seal in the top right corner and a miniscule, pointed black stick. I take the stick between the fingers of my right hand and hastily scribble my full name and district number in my untidy scrawl. Then i roll it up neatly against the cavern floor and push it back in to the container, screwing on the lid tightly before slipping it in to the neck of my boot. Revere coughs lightly as he follows my lead as closely as he can manage. I glance up quickly, having forgotten about his presence, our eyes lock. I know i can't ask him to do this with me, but i also know that when i win, i won't choose district 1. I take his hand in mine and shake it roughly, ignoring the flash of confusion which crosses his eyes.

"Thank you for saving my life." i whisper.

Then i stoop for the knife i dropped earlier and strike him forcefully and efficiently in the left temple, before he has time to blink. He slumps awkwardly backwards to the floor, dust coating his plain black clothes. I stare down at him for a moment, wondering why i feel no remorse. The games realy must be getting to me this time. Then i step over his relaxed form and slip the cannister from his willing hands before striding from the room. I don't look back, not once.


	18. Chapter 18

**hello! Sorry about my absence again. Ive been suffering from writer's block. I know this one is short but the next one is a biggy and it will be up tomorrow, I swear on my honour. So merry christmas from me, here is your present**

it is well past noon by the time the warm fingers of the sun appear in even the outermost caverns of the mountain. I stir but make no move to stand. Wallowing, that's what I'm doing. My father would be ashamed, if he were alive I mean. But he isn't, nor is my brother. From my vantage point there on the dusty floor, the futile rays of sun creeping across the left side of my face and warming my mud caked hair, it seems as though everyone I love ends up dead; or worse. I wish that i could love Snow, but i can't, no human being could love such a creature. He may be popular amoung the citizens of the Capitol but I know that he would see them killed as quickly as he would I, or Kesella, or anyone else for the matter. So it makes sense that I should just lie here until someone finds me and runs me through. But I know that I can't. If I die in here, there will be no hope for those out there.

It's been two days since I left Revere, tangled in his black tribute uniform, incapacitated and in plain sight. I think of him now and then when I am wondering the empty caves, alone and afraid. I haven't caught sight of Kesella since the Cornucopia but I have an idea that he was responsible for Precious's death. I miss him dearly. I am not brave, nor am I tough and I have always relied on those bigger and stronger than i. Victor or not, I can't survive this alone. But then comes that voice in my mind again, unctuous and soothing; maybe I shouldn't survive, maybe I should let them win and let the pain stop. But it is foolish, whether I die or not Kesella won't be allowed to survive. But I have a plan, a plan which might see me obliterated, but a plan which I intend on following through.

Eventually, I find the courage to stand up. I blink rapidly in the light for am I still fairly on the cornucopia side of the arena. I suppose thats why I haven't met many other tributes. They have more sense than me, they try to stay out of sight. I don't. Almost convulsively I stuff my hand into the neck of my boot. Both cannisters are there, cool and rough to the touch. The sensation fills my mind with images of Revere once more and I quickly drop them back into the darkness by my ankle. That's when I hear it again.

Something has distracted my greatly from my task these last few days. Footsteps. Soft but distinctive. Constant footsteps, pattering a metre or so behind me. They stop only in the night, but then I hear scuffles and occasionally breath, heavy breath. For a time I tried to tell myself it was in my head, tried to laugh and say 'the games are getting to me at last'. But by now ive had to face the truth. I am being followed, and very intently at that. I can always feel their presence, whoever they are, as though they were breathing down my neck and it scares me. What plagues me most however is the thought that everyone in the capitol (including Snow) knows exactly who is haunting me, and I don't.

I've only been walking for an hour when it happens. I haven't been paying much attention to where I am going because I am trying so desperately to listen to my pursuer. Consequently I find myself in an area of the arena that I have never strayed upon before. I am standing on a ledge, about a 3ft wide with a clean drop in to a pitch black abyss to my right. There is a wind blowing, swirling and sucking and drowning any other noise. Its voice beckons me closer to the pit. I swallow a scream and make my way slowly along, trying desperately not the look down. The going is painfully slow and the cavern is bitterly cold and full of a strange feeling of foreboding, but I push on, with the idea of escaping the follower. If they were to follow me on to this narrow ledge I would see them clearly and I have a feeling that that is not what they want.

I have to rest in the gathering darkness when i reach the halfway-point. I slide down the wall and wrap my arms around my knees panting with exhaustion and with fear. It is all can do just to keep my head. Without conscious thought my hand slips in to my boot and I hold the little cannisters in my fist, squeezing them until the metal edge bites into my palm. I can ignore it at first, amoung the sounds of the roaring wind it is not that noticeable, but it buzzes in my ears, filling my mind. I look up sharply. Something is coming, rising out of the pit. The sound gets louder, a sort of chirping, the beating of a thousand leathery wings...

"Bats!" I hiss sharply, crawling to the lip of the ledge and squinting down in to the depths.

Sure enough, there they are, a storm of black terrors, claws outstretched, flying towards their quarry: me. For a moment I am mesmerized in sheer terror. Then I come to my senses, pushing myself to my feet and running much faster than I should have on such a small strip of rock, towards the other door. My mind is reeling, I can't distinguish my own breath past the series of hissing, clicking, shrieking and flapping which fills my ears. I let out a scream but it is lost in the wind. I can't breathe. My lungs burn and pure adrenaline fills my veins but I don't stop to rest or risk a glance of my shoulder until at last, much winded I reach the door. There I turn on the threshold to see them, lining the walk way and watching me closely. Bats, but not bats as I ever known them. They are hunched and wretched, standing not on two legs but four, like a dog. Black hair stands straight up across their curved backs and long undulating tails extend behind then curving around the platform's edge like talons for grip. They have no heads to speak of, but 6 beady, intelligent black eyes wink at me from a sort of flat stump where their necks should be. From their scabbed feet protrude cruel steely talons, 2ft in length. Mutts.

We stare at each other for a moment, my two eyes on at least 100 of theirs. I flinch at every little movement but they seem in no hurry to follow me. I can only guess that they are unable to leave their cavern. Or that, Snow has dictated that I shouldn't die just get, he isn't finished. The only joy I can find in this situation is that noone could have followed me across here and now that they know what lies in wait, who would try? Kesella would, for me. I shake that thought out of my mind and reluctantly turn my back on the strange creatures. Then, with a deep breath, i start once more in to the darkness of another unknown passage.


End file.
